


The Kingdom of Meliora

by katyhorrorpictureshow



Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:45:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6832036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyhorrorpictureshow/pseuds/katyhorrorpictureshow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2027, the Swedish city of Lincopia has become the Kingdom of Meliora, a society dedicated to pleasing the demon Mammon. Papa Emeritus III and his Nameless Ghouls rule over the citizens of the Pinnacle and the Pit, deciding who will cry for absolution or stay away from the heavens and in the ground. When Papa III calls for a woman to become his bride, a competition commences in the Kingdom, one that fourth caste radio personality Sofia Almquist finds herself being swept into. But little does Sofia know that she has been chosen for a top-secret experiment, one that will change her heart in the darkest of ways...</p><p>9/20/17: No longer updating this fic, sorry guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> At last, my second major Ghost fic! This time we're exploring the Meliora era with a tale inspired by the film 'Metropolis'. Already writing this fic is a different experience from writing Chiaroscuro, and I have to say it's a bit refreshing! Hope you guys enjoy this one.

A long time ago, there was a God – a God so mighty and powerful that some thought he ascended to mortal ground with the task of changing lives for the better. He was a huge inspiration to all sorts of people, from the young to the old, and there were times of devout worship and prayer in His honor. The light prospered on because of how strongly these people believed, and surprisingly, hope and positivity persisted in these times of old. Everybody loved this God that could make a grown man cry and a young woman sing as if an angel usurped her voice. He brought everyone together to make the world a better place to live in, free of crime and war and overall sin.

At least, that's what the world was once like.

Ever since the third World War devastated the country, the once beautiful city of Lincopia became almost unrecognizable if you were to look at a photograph from the times of old. Our king is now Papa Emeritus III, a hideous monarch who paints his face like death's head and wears the chasuble and miter of a long forgotten priest. The Ghost Project now ruled over us all, and if you dared to question the practices they forced upon us, you'd be executed right on the spot in front of our leader and his masked clergy. They will show you no sympathy. Hell, they wouldn’t even care if another life perished. Suffering gives the Ghost Project power. It enlightens them and encourages them to rule over us in the depths of the working class, or as those who live in the Pinnacle call our home, the Pit.

They are why we live this way.

When the first Papa Emeritus took the throne many years ago, God was pronounced dead. Instead, we are now to believe in Mammon, a descendant of Lucifer who personified greed and indulgence. Any other religion other than the one the Ghost Project developed was banished by the decree of the Missionary Men, more commonly known as the Nameless Ghouls. Mammon would supposedly lead us to our salvation, our own absolution, but since Papa felt the need to separate the rich and the poor into two halves, how were we supposed to please the Unholy God? We had barely any luxuries or Mummy Dust, our Kingdom's currency, like those in the Pinnacle did. We were nothing but Pit dwellers, with our professions helping those in the Pinnacle carry on.

"Segregation is the proper way to organize society," Papa once said during a radio broadcast. The Pit has seven different castes, and we are sorted depending on our skills and strengths. The higher you are, the more valuable you are to the Pinnacle and the Ghost Project. The lower you are… well, let’s just say there’s a reason why you’ve been cast down from the heavens to the ground. You must work hard to adapt and survive on your own from then on out. The hymn 'From the Pinnacle to the Pit' even tells us we must wear our independence like a crown.

Our society is nothing but a foggy wasteland built on scrap and metal, and the stunning cathedrals have been melded into one grotesque Devil Church sculpted to Papa's likeness. The masked figures patrol the streets, and the dark and powerful have come out of hiding to play. Those who wish to hold on to their old beliefs and practices hide underground, praying every day that they won't be caught by Papa and his Ghouls. All we know is that if we want to stay alive, we must follow Papa's Unholy Rule, no matter how badly we don't want to, so we may save our skins and perhaps endure.

Thus, the citizens of the Kingdom prospered without a second thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do the people of the Pit live through Papa's reign?

“Sit back and listen, dearest believers, for I will tell you a tale of when flowers blossomed and the skies were blue. Of when air was safe to breathe in and not riddled with chemicals. Of when there was no war or plague… but peace.”

I briefly glanced over at the recording light to ensure it was on. It was glowing bright red, bathing the room with a comforting light that reminded me of what the sunset used to be like. Of course, the wonders of nature perished with the war and the Kingdom’s forming. There weren’t any puffy clouds or blades of grass, but only the smoke that drifted from the chimney-tops and tainted the sky with a measly gray shade. I only had my pictorial books to remind me of the old world, and for those who weren’t so fortunate to receive access to the libraries in the fifth caste, I told them stories on my radio show of what I so admired.

I took a deep breath and continued my monologue. “Once long ago, humanity was… less restricted, more open-armed. They didn’t let temptation and indulgence rule over them so quickly. Life was something to be cherished and treated as if it was a valuable possession, not a time where you had to be pressured into doing things to please others! People lived not to serve a ruthless order, but to discover and to learn about the many wonders of the world. You know, Papa Emeritus always has his motto: ‘It is the people who hold the power.’ But at what cost? At what cost is the power too much or too little? No one quite knows the concept of balance anymore. You are either too light or too dark; there is no in between. And such are the things, dearest believers, which we must still discover for ourselves.

“Just remember these words. Great is the world and its Creator. Now, I am not suggesting that I believe in the old, ancient God, but think of who ensured the waters were plentiful and the air was clean back when these resources were available. Imagine that—“

A loud, zapping sound and a burst of darkness startled me from my lament. The power must’ve gone out in the third caste, I thought as I scrambled to remove my headphones. The third caste was dedicated to technology, electricity in particular, but in the Pit, electricity was more of a luxury than a commodity. Thus, the power would go out at least five times a day, ruining the flow of my broadcasts. It was almost like a schedule; when the power was gone, my show was over. At least it gave me time to travel back to my home and start preparing dinner before the mandatory concerts in Meliora Square.

“Hey, Sofia, do you plan on skipping the concert tonight?” Mara asked me as she entered the studio to hand me her notes. We’ve been friends since childhood, and luckily, she passed into the fourth caste with flying colors. When she wasn’t assisting me with improving on my broadcasts (figured, she wanted me to delve into gossip and Pinnacle news), she was a fantastic painter. She was a cityscape type of person, and frequently snuck out to the Pinnacle to sketch the Devil Church and the Tower of Mammon, a fourteen story building with a needlepoint tip that could’ve stabbed right through a person.

“Mara, I can’t take the risk of getting caught by Sister Imperator again,” I replied, freeing my light brown curls from the messy bun I wore. “You know how cross she gets whenever she sees you and I hanging out by the Devil Church.”

“’You should be listening to the unholy psalms of our savior!’” Mara imitated Sister’s low, sophisticated voice. “’It is such a disgrace that you two are not respecting Papa and his unholy rule!”

“Like he’s done anything of importance! You know, except for trapping us down here in the Pit and working us all to death! He treats us like the literal scum of the earth. One by one, he just wants us dead! ‘The people hold the power’ my ass. Right now, he’s the only one who can do anything without being executed for it!”

“Aw, lighten up, Sofia.” Mara put an assuring arm around my shoulder. “Sooner or later, those Pinnacle people will realize that sin and greed isn’t the key to success. I mean really, can you picture the Devil Church burning down to the ground as all the people up in the Pinnacle are screaming their lives away?”

“That’s not the answer, Mara. Death is never the answer. Rather, we have to… _teach_ people the errors of their ways. Not through punishment, but through enlightenment! Through the power of inspiration! No wonder why creativity always gets the short end of the stick when it comes to the castes. People just don’t see the power behind innovation anymore!”

“You’re always the right one to be philosophical, Sofia.”

“More like cynical these days. But hey, I do it to be just a _little_  positive, to make sure I’m sane.”

As we walked out of the broadcast building, we donned our coats and hats colored in red, the color of the fourth caste. Each caste had a designated color to easily tell people apart – blue was reserved for the medics in the second caste, purple was reserved for the manufacturers in the sixth caste, and so on. Only the first caste got free whim in how they dressed, what they ate, and when they got to visit the Pinnacle – they were Papa and the Ghouls’ Pets after all, their Nameless Harem. I guess it was to rub in that if you devoted yourself both religiously and sexually to the Ghost Project, you got whatever you wanted.

“Good evening, Ms. Almquist!” A familiar, chipper man approached me, adjusting his crisp green tie. “Your show was excellent as always tonight!”

Mr. Lars Peterson was one of my show’s biggest fans. He tuned in every night like an excited child on Christmas and called in frequently to enact discussions of how the old world worked. He resided in the fifth caste, known for its scholars and historians, and was rumored to hold the most extensive library aside from Papa’s. To boot, Lars was not only super intelligent, knowing seven different languages and frequently going up to the Pinnacle to engage in political discussion, but he was also a marvelous tap dancer in his youth. Unfortunately though, because of his old age, he couldn’t quite flaunt that ability any longer.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Peterson,” I told the man with a smile. “Did you happen to like my speech this evening?”

“Oh, of course Sofia. It looks like the book of the skies I gave you has assisted you well!”

“You bet it has! That whole speech was off the cuff, by the way. Not scripted at all.”

“She’s right!” Mara said proudly.

“Ah, how splendid! I know for certain that you can speak from the heart, Sofia. You’ve made us elderly Pit folk proud for quite a while now! We need a young voice to defend our views. Say, I’ll see you two at Papa’s concert later tonight. Rumor has it he’s going to make a big announcement!”

We both waved goodbye to Lars as he went off on his way, fluffing out his green velvet jacket and humming to the tune of ‘Spirit’.

“He’s always been such a kind man,” Mara said fondly. “He helped my family when we were totally out of food once. He made sure we didn’t go hungry for almost two years.”

“And he always goes out of the way to make sure I have the right material I need to cover, too!” I added. “He’s one of the only people I know who really cares about how beneficial the old world was to us.”

The intercom speakers above us began to sputter and squeak. Then, an authoritative, booming voice echoed throughout the caste, bringing everyone to a standstill.

“Attention all citizens of the Pinnacle and the Pit!” It was Sister Imperator, the Queen Regent of the Ghost Project and, if the rumors were true, Papa’s stepmother. Sometimes, with her commanding presence and involvement in both Pinnacle and Pit activities, we thought she was more of our ruler than Papa was. “Papa Emeritus’s concert shall begin exactly an hour from now, at seven o’clock. Please ensure that all the female members in your families are present, and as usual, attendance is mandatory. Thank you for your attention, and Hell Satan.”

“Ugh, ‘Hell Satan,” Mara groaned. “Doesn’t she know that Mammon’s actually a _relative_ of Satan’s? First cousin once removed or something like that?”

“I wonder why Sister mentioned that all the women need to be there,” I replied. “It must have to do with Papa’s big announcement tonight.”

"Oh shit, don't tell me he's sacrificing us to Mammon or some crazy shit like that! He pulls off some kind of stint every year and he never succeeds. Like, remember the Prime Mover destiny?"

“Of course I do, Mara. But something’s telling me things are going to change this year… after all, it’s the third anniversary of Papa coming into power. The man’s probably going to want to exercise his power in some demeaning way toward women like he usually does with the Pets.”

“A massive orgy?” Mara suggested with a giggle.

I stopped and gave her a blank look. “Do you want to have sex with a scary, masked man and his skull-faced father figure?”

“No!” Mara then choked out. “Oh my… Hell no! I mean it’s… uh… funny to think about.”

“I mean, you can have your own fucked-up fantasies if you’d like Mara, but that kind of stuff is actually kind of terrifying.” I smoothed out my skirt as I approached the front door to my residence, about the size of a hotel suite. “Are you coming inside? I could make you a quick sandwich before we head out.”

“Wish I could, but I better head off to my own place,” Mara replied. “Dad said he wanted me to help him fine-tune his sculpture before the concert. He’s having a hard time with noses, apparently.”

“Ah, noses. They’re always so hard to draw, let alone sculpt. Well, I’ll tell Desmond you said hi!”

“And don’t forget to tell him that I’ll let him borrow my sketching kit!”

I watched Mara enter her residence before wandering into my own. Mara sure was lucky that her father stayed in the fourth caste with her, with him being a sculptor and her a painter. I only had my little brother, Desmond, who had a knack for making metal sculptures and sketching life-like portraits. The boy was only eleven, but I knew he would be officially accepted into the fourth caste when he took his aptitude test in a few years. Our parents, Ruth and Harold, were bumped down to the sixth caste, manufacturing, two years ago, as my mother sadly lost the talent she had for making jewelry because of her arthritis. It was either go to the sixth caste or retire up to the Pinnacle, where more than half of the Pit citizens couldn’t afford to live in. Now, Mom worked as a factory supervisor, while Pop was one of the factory foremen.

“Hey, Sofie!” Desmond rushed into the atrium holding one of his metal sculptures. Lately, he had a knack for constructing animals, and today he created a tiger to add to his growing wire menagerie. “Look at this tiger I made! Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah!” I gently took the metal tiger out of Desmond’s hands and observed it more closely. “Wow, you must’ve went through twenty coils of wire to get this kind of detail, Des! I mean really, you can’t make eyeballs and stripes out of wire that easily.”

“The supply dealer was having a sale,” Desmond replied awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. He usually did this whenever he got embarrassed or flustered over someone admiring his work. “So naturally, I took advantage!”

“Oh, were they?” I grimaced. “And how much did the wire cost you?”

“Uh… the coils? They were about… um… five Papa coins and three Mummy Dust bills.”

“Desmond, that’s almost a month’s pay for me! You can’t go wasting Mummy Dust on things like wire!”

“I’m sorry, Sofie,” Desmond said guiltily, hanging his head down. “I hate when I make you angry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I lifted up Desmond’s chin. “We all make mistakes, and that’s okay. I get you want to head for your passion, but you just need to be careful! Indulgence is quite destructive, Desmond. You know that’s one of Papa’s golden values up in the Pinnacle.”

Desmond shuddered upon the mention of Papa’s name. “Oh, right. I definitely don’t want to get anywhere near him!”

“Well unfortunately, we have to. Tonight’s his concert in Meliora Square, remember? Oh, and in case you didn’t hear Sister’s message, he wants—“

“All the girls there,” Desmond finished. “Ooh, Papa always goes for the ladies!”

“That explains his brother.” Papa Emeritus II was once the ruler of our fine Kingdom, back when I was a teenager. He burned out several hundred Mummy Dust dollars a month on luxuries and Pets before he died of a violent heart attack a few years ago. Yet, despite his actions, he was hailed as a hero. “And since I’m a female, you can bet I’m doomed some way or another.”

“Why would you be doomed? Papa wouldn’t go for someone like you.”

I scoffed in a dramatic fashion. “And you have the nerve to say that to someone who hosts one of the most popular radio broadcasts in the Pit! You’ve got major steel on you, Des. Now go clean up and get ready for the concert. We’ve got about twenty minutes if we want to skip the traffic jam at the elevators.”

Desmond playfully stuck his tongue out before running off to his bedroom. Deep down inside of me, my heart ached for my little brother. He loved his hobbies so much, but what would happen when he tested into a different caste in a few years? I’d imagine he’d be heartbroken; he loves being in the fourth caste, and he especially loves being surrounded by artists such as Mara’s father, Alfred. But I didn’t think he’d test any different. I just had to be positive in these dark times, and hold onto the beliefs I held dear. Although they may not be valued by those in the Pinnacle, here in the Pit they did, and always will.

And I had to keep that belief strong not just for me, but everyone that crossed my path, from the airwaves to the streets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister Imperator announces the draft, a new challenge that will bring remarkable change to the Kingdom of Meliora.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't figured out by now, Sister Imperator is based off of that old woman from the Meliora teaser videos.

About twenty minutes later, Desmond and I were dressed and ready for Papa’s concert in Meliora Square, homemade gas masks in hand to survive the smoke in the sky. We were expected to wear our finest clothing, or what could be considered fine for Pit standards. The sixth caste’s textile faction currently had an extreme shortage of fabrics and dyes, making even clothing hard to come by in the Pit. Whatever resources they had always went toward creating clothing for the Pinnacle’s citizens, unsurprisingly. So, I wore my usual red scoop blouse and skirt, while Desmond wore his vest and trousers, complete with a little newsboy cap I sewed myself.

“All right!” Desmond exclaimed excitedly, his mouth agape as we approached the line for the elevators. “We’ve got first dibs on the elevator, Sofie! You know how excited I get when it comes to them, especially when there’s no line at all!”

“I know. They’re pretty interesting, aren’t they?”

The elevator climbed up and clicked into place on the loading bay. There weren’t many Pit dwellers standing around, except for a few dozen people from the seventh, sixth, and fifth castes, dressed in their respective gray, purple, and green finery. The elevators could hold up to a thousand people at any given time, which made carrying Pit dwellers from the Pit to the Pinnacle a rather easy task. However, I didn’t even want to know about the logistical nightmares behind them; thankfully, there were always twelve shafts in service.

“Good evening,” I said to the laborers and manufacturers as Desmond and I stepped into the shaft. I only got a few disgruntled mumbles in response.

“So much for kindness being valued anymore,” Desmond whispered to me.

“Hey, at least you know I tried to be nice.”

After five more minutes of waiting, the elevator’s doors slammed shut and we ascended up to the third caste, the electricians and tech support. There was always a pattern amongst the electricians that shuffled inside the elevator; they were always sweating from their work and red with anger, unlike most of the dwellers from my caste. Aside from them, the rest of the castes’ citizens were pretty pleasant and approachable, some even recognizing my voice whenever I talked to Desmond.

But it was always the first caste that I dreaded. Whenever they stepped aboard wearing their silver jewelry and garish makeup, jealousy pooled up inside of me. How I longed to be a Pet, loved and cared for by the Missionary Men, or as everyone else called them, the Nameless Ghouls. It was more for receiving luxuries than having to pleasure the Ghouls, however. Even cosmetics and jewelry were hard to come across in the fourth caste, despite the many makeup artists and sculptors that lived near me. Life was never easy though, I’d always remind myself. You must work hard to achieve your ends.

When we reach the Pinnacle level, the scent of smoke already filled up my nostrils. Desmond covered his nose with his cap as we shuffled off the shaft and onto the cobblestone streets of the Pinnacle, where many skyscrapers and castle-like apartments greeted us as usual. It must cost a fortune to live in one of those buildings overlooking the city, and even more so to keep the interior in pristine condition. Besides, I don’t think I’d like to see the grotesque Devil Church every day, nor did I wish to see the smoke-filled, blackened skies that the zeppelins somehow managed to navigate through. For once, being inside was actually a good thing, where I didn’t have to wear a mask all the time, unlike the people of the Pinnacle.

Every time I laid my eyes upon the Devil Church, my blood boiled and my stomach churned. Maybe it was because of how it formed back when Linkoping lost the war and in turn, its glory, or maybe it was because of how it resembled the leader we were all supposed to adore. The eerie, smiling visage of Papa reminded me of the gargoyle statues I had pictures of in one of my books, with their jagged fangs and menacing, beady eyes. Did people who enter the Devil Church ever come out alive or unscathed? Judging by the billowing flames that would shoot out of the lanterns in Papa’s hands every once in a while, I imagined entering the Devil Church would be like passing through the fiery flames of Hell.

“Come on, Sofie!” Desmond tugged onto the hem of my blouse. He had placed on his mask a bit askew, which reminded me to put on my own. I stood frozen in my tracks for quite a bit of time, so distracted by the vile wonder of the Devil Church. “We aren’t going to get good spots in the Square if you just stand around!”

“Sorry, Dezzy,” I mumbled, bending to my knees to fix his mask. “You know how I get distracted by the architecture up here.”

“But it’s every time!” Desmond complained. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer!”

“I would if I had a camera that still worked!”

Being identified was always the worst part of entering Meliora Square and specifically Papa’s concerts. Because your face was hidden behind your mask, the black clad, Grucifix-pinned supervisors always pricked your finger with a thin yet sharp needle and matched your blood with the imprint on your birth certificate. It was a rather convoluted process as it made waiting in line bothersome, but once it was over there weren’t any more checkpoints to go through.

“Name?” the supervisor asked as he sterilized the needle.

“Sofia Almquist,” I replied tersely.

I bit down on my lip as the needle pierced my finger and sent blood rushing down the plastic tray in the supervisor’s hands. After he leafed through the birth certificates of the fourth caste’s citizens and found that my blood was a match, he waved me through. Desmond’s reaction to the blood test always broke my heart. He tried so hard not to cry, sucking in his chest. As soon as he was done, he ran over to me and nearly crashed right into my side, blubbering away.

“I know, it hurts,” I said reassuringly, rubbing my hand on his back. “Let’s go find our spots.”

Meliora Square was built like a gladiator arena, completely surrounding the stage platform where Papa and his Ghouls stood. There really wasn't a bad seat in the house, but of course, you had to sit in your assigned area based on your caste. The Pinnacle dwellers and the Pets always got the front view down on the floor, while the fourth caste got mostly a profile view from the middle of the bleachers. Seeing the backs of the Ghouls as they played their instruments certainly wasn't that interesting, and it always felt like Papa was intentionally giving us lower castes the cold shoulder. He never addressed us when we needed our leader the most, but surprisingly, most people didn't mind. You would be surprised how many of the Pit dwellers are absolutely fine with Papa's reign. They just fail to see the problems behind it.

“There you guys are!” Mara exclaimed as she helped her father Alfred up the staircase. “You must’ve left earlier than usual! We were early for once and we thought you might've gotten stuck in the traffic jam."

“Papa’s probably got one hell of an announcement tonight,” Alfred added. “I mean, look at all those Pinnacle girls down there. They look thrilled to be here.”

Mara’s father was right. We watched as a corral of Pinnacle girls ripped at each other’s hair and dresses in a fight to get right up close to the front of the platform. I sighed in disgust; figures, the luxurious and the beautiful were prone for fighting because of their vanity and lust. But the seven deadly sins were praised here in the Kingdom, with lust being the most powerful. I never saw the value behind lust if you knew you could truly love someone with your heart.

Once all the castes and Pinnacle dwellers were settled, the bright lighting of the arena dimmed and the stage lights flickered on. The Meliora Choir filed onto the stage, dressed in their dark purple robes and their ominous silver Bauta masks. This was our cue to rise to our feet and sing along with the hymn known as ‘Infestissumam’, a prayer written by Papa Emeritus II. Papa probably kept the hymn in circulation to honor his brother, most likely out of spite for him. They never did get along that well, from what I’ve heard.

“I never know the right way to pronounce some of the words,” Desmond told me as the choir exited the stage and everyone sat back down. “It’s Latin and it’s too hard to understand!”

“You will, with time,” I simply told him.

The entire arena fell silent as an older woman entered the stage, her book in her arm. Her gray hair was tied up in a tight bun, with a few frizzy strands sticking out in the back. She wore no mask; perhaps she was so used to the smoke that breathing it in didn’t even affect her. She approached the podium at the foot of the stage and adjusted the microphone to accommodate for her rather short height. This woman’s grandmotherly appearance definitely was not something to take for granted. Her icy blue eyes could make it feel like she had shot daggers through your chest, and her sickly grin was one to make even grown men recoil back in fear.

Such was the demeanor of Brigitte Liebstadt, or as she was most commonly known as, Sister Imperator.

“Good evening, fellow citizens of Meliora!” Sister said in her usual cheery way, her voice booming and echoing throughout the arena. The Pets cried out and screamed in response, while a few of the Pit dwellers hooped and hollered. “Now, I know you all are desperately waiting for the appearance of everybody’s favorite Nameless Ghouls, but before we begin tonight’s concert, I have a very special piece of news to share with you all!”

“Oh great, here it comes,” Mara whispered in my ear. “This must be that announcement Mr. Peterson was telling us about!”

“Now,” Sister continued, “you all probably know that tonight is the third anniversary of our beloved Papa Emeritus the third’s reign. Ever since he took the throne and changed Lincopia for the better, we have seen remarkable change here in Meliora. For instance, more schools have opened here in the Pinnacle, teaching all the children about how Mammon's power has formed the society we all cherish today. And let’s not forget the many women and men who now serve for our Kingdom as proud followers of Mammon! And our Nameless Ghouls have ascended up the power ladder, protecting this Kingdom with their dark, iron fists!

“What of the Pit, you might ask? Well, although you all may not be in the circumstances of those who live in the Pinnacle, we can assure you we’ve been watching each and every one of you with special interest.  You are the ones to bring us food and power, and clothing and medical services! We commend all of you for working so very hard to make our little Kingdom a very fine place to live.”

 _Lies_ , I thought to myself. _We only work to save our skins._

“Which brings me to our big announcement!” Sister excitedly clapped her hands together. “This shall be a new event to bring the Pinnacle and the Pit together. Papa has recently told me he is interested in seeking out a bride… a Queen to help him rule the Kingdom with! And since there are so many women in the Pinnacle and the Pit, we are introducing a process to find the right woman capable of taking on that honorable role!”

A fury of whispers and murmurs of discussion scattered throughout the castes. So, Papa was finally looking for a bride, big deal. I had no chance of becoming his wife anyway, especially for being somewhat low in the castes. Yet, the process Sister Imperator mentioned had me curious. It probably involved being bumped up to the Pets’ caste and being forced to pleasure the Nameless Ghouls, but Sister was keen on keeping secrets.

“Behold, the draft!”

Two giant glass balls holding several slips of paper ascended from trap doors in the platform, much to the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ coming mainly from the Pinnacle dwellers. I buried my face in my hands in disbelief. They really thought picking random names was going to work out for this whole draft idea?

“We have gone through the census lists and drew random names of women currently residing in the Pinnacle and the Pit,” Sister explained, gesturing towards the glass balls. “Of course, there are some conditions to the draft. All the women’s names that will be called are of twenty-one years of age or older, and we have considered their health both physically and mentally. Their talents and charity to society have also been considered as well... we surely don't want a rebel from the eighth caste sneaking their way into the competition, now do we? Ladies, when your name is called, please step up to the platform, and note that you are in a very lucky position! Most are just… vying for whatever it takes to survive through these desperate times. Let’s start with the women of the castes, shall we?"

“That cad,” Mara whispered to me. “He’s picking random girls in the hopes that one’s going to marry him?”

“It looks like,” I replied uncomfortably, watching as Sister selected the first name. It was a Ms. Candice Helm from the third caste. “Ugh, it’s so disgusting! Can’t he just go out and find the right woman for himself?”

“It’s not going to work out at all. You watch, he won’t like any of the women chosen, and he’ll just beg for more to be brought to him like some cattle line.”

Sister went to work with picking out a few more names, occasionally having to throw some back in the ball because someone from the same caste was already chosen. I came to the conclusion that there would be fourteen hopefuls – seven from the Pinnacle and seven from the Pit – doing whatever it took to win Papa’s heart. And knowing the Ghost Project and just how lustful Papa and the Nameless Ghouls could get, it wouldn’t be pretty.

My heart began pounding in my chest. What if I was chosen? I wasn’t scared of Papa or the Ghouls, but rather, what would happen if they found out I was a controversial radio host who oftentimes spoke against them? My reputation would absolutely be soiled. And besides, what would happen to Desmond and my family in the sixth caste? Would they be cared for in my absence?

After five rapid-fire minutes of accumulating women, all but the fourth caste were represented by a diverse group of women of different sizes and colors. Papa had a wide selection to choose from, if any of them even pleased him.  They all shared the same nervous, wary expressions, looking at each other through their masks as they trembled and fought back their urges to cry. None of these Pit dwellers would’ve ever dreamed of marrying Papa Emeritus, let alone venture up to the Pinnacle – in fact, the opportunity probably never passed through their minds.

“Ah, and finally, we have the name representing the fourth caste,” Sister said, pulling out one more slip of paper from the Pit’s ball. “I can’t believe I almost forgot! They say those folk are rather artsy, aren’t they? Anyway, the woman representing the fourth caste in the competition is…”

Mara squeezed her hand in mine. I closed my eyes tightly as anticipation ticked away, praying that my name or Mara's wouldn't be called. I couldn’t go up to the Pinnacle, no matter how badly I desired fresh new clothing and makeup and finery. I had my brother and my show and my friends that I worried about constantly, and their lives mattered much more than mine. I needed to defend my loved ones for their protection, for their survival. And I was their only hope.

But, as Mara’s hand limply fell from my own and Desmond’s face fell in horror, I knew that my position as the one to save the Pit had fallen right from my grasp.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia comes face to face with Papa Emeritus III, who alludes to secrets of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Omega's in this. It's because I started writing this fic when he was still around.

“Sofia Almquist, are you there?” Sister’s voice echoed throughout Meliora Square, sending tension into the audience. “Come, my dear, there’s no need to be afraid!”

If a cinderblock were to fall on top of my head at this moment, I don’t think I’d even be able to feel the pain. I was _chosen_. Another randomized name that just so happened to be selected. I couldn’t find the honor or dignity in being in the running to marry our tyrannical, bitter leader. Instead, I felt ashamed, revolted that I had to unwillingly march my way to the platform and stand amongst six other caste women forced into this game. We aren’t pawns to be played with. Why does Papa always have the nerve to make decisions in the most bizarre ways possible?

Slowly, I rose to my feet and inched my way out of the row. But as my heel hit the stair, Desmond’s horrified cry shot through my heart and sent me down to my knees, accidentally ripping the skirt of my dress. The fellow people of the castes gasped and cried out, recognizing me right away. The Pinnacle dwellers below snickered and chuckled, as they usually saw the Pit dwellers as nothing more than scum.

“Oh dear, what a nasty fall,” Sister said with an awkward chuckle, to add salt to the wound. “Boys, can two of you go up there and assist Ms. Almquist in coming down to the platform, please?”

 _Boys_. Oh great, the Ghouls were coming up here!

I grabbed onto the handlebar and stumbled down the stairs, but the awkward gait I developed made it next to impossible for me to walk down the remaining flights. I froze in utmost fear as two of the Nameless Ghouls rushed up the stairs, dressed in their black suits and silver, horned masks. The pain surging through my leg or the blood trickling down my leg wasn’t what paralyzed me in the moment. Rather, it was one of the Ghouls’ blue eyes, a vibrant cobalt shade that softened and crinkled in concern, that pierced through my heart and reminded me just whose presence I was in.

“Are you all right, Miss?” The blue eyed Ghoul’s voice held a thin Swedish accent, but also kept a slight, gravelly tone, perhaps from a past of singing, or worse, drinking.

“I’m fine,” I snapped, wiping my scraped knee with my hand. “I don’t need your help, _sir_.”

“But you’re bleeding,” the other Ghoul said. He shared the same bright blue eyes as his companion, but his slightly wide figure and tall stature set him apart. “We ought to help you, especially if Sister commands us to.”

My head stung as many thoughts came to mind. How were these Ghouls speculated to be so cruel and cold suddenly so nice? It’s probably a front they’re putting on to easily win over my trust, I thought, but the genuine looks in both of the Ghouls’ eyes made me consider something more. The people of the Pit never had anything nice to say about the Missionary Men. They took the Pets in the middle of the night and had sex with them against their will, or even when they were half awake. You could never trust a person based off of the façade they emitted, but then again, the world is full of actors, manipulating others and playing the roles that hide the vulnerability underneath.

Reluctantly, I nodded, and the blue-eyed Ghoul swept me off my feet and into his arms. He must’ve had some sort of superhuman strength; the flights of stairs that awaited us may easily tire him out, especially for a girl of my weight. The divided third and second castes watched in a mix of shock and awe as the Ghouls passed by, frozen in utter disbelief that these men dedicated so loyally to the Ghost Project were actually this chivalrous.

“Thank you for helping me, sir,” I told the Ghoul. “I’m sorry for my earlier selfishness. I was just… afraid.”

“Not a problem,” the Ghoul replied after a brief gasp for air.

“Which Ghoul are you, if I may ask?”

“I am known as Alpha, ma’am.”

“Alpha…” Alpha was the term the old astronomers used to determine which the brightest star amongst the constellations was. “And I’m guessing your brother’s name is Omega?”

“That is correct,” Alpha’s companion replied with a chuckle. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you? You could say we personify both the beginning and the end.”

 _The beginning and the end_ , I repeated in my head. What did that mean ?

"There you are, Ms. Almquist!" Sister chirped as Alpha brought me to the stage. She clasped her hands together and gave a big, wide grin. "What a pleasure to meet you!"

"It's, uh..." I had never seen Sister up close except for in photographs, so her vivid, almost unnaturally bright gaze startled me and put me at unease. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Sister Imperator."

"Alpha, let the girl back on her feet," Sister chastised. "The bleeding in her leg has died down, there's no need for her to be carried like a doll!"

"Yes, Sister," Alpha said tersely, bringing me down back to my feet.

"There we go!" Reluctantly, I shook Sister's hand, which was cold much like her demeanor. "I apologize for you getting off on a bit of a bad start, but once the challenge unfolds I think you'll rise up to the spot you deserve. Am I correct, Ms. Almquist?"

At this point, I realized the microphone was inches away from my lips. "I..." I shuddered at how the microphone transformed my voice as it echoed throughout the Square. "I believe I am, Sister Imperator."

“Lovely!” Sister turned back to the microphone. "Now, the chosen women will be able to spend their last rites with their families before they are sent to the Devil Church tomorrow afternoon. But for now, we will have them fill out their forms backstage before returning them to you for the evening. Now, off you seven go!"

I glanced behind my shoulder so I could find Mara, Desmond, and Alfred in the audience. They blended in so well with the sea of red-clad fourth caste citizens that I wasn't able to find them, although their faces of suffering probably would make me break even more. Desmond must’ve been absolutely terrified. His sister, his only family left in the fourth caste, is unwillingly being sacrificed, and now he has no one left.

Alpha and Omega followed behind us to a series of black tents in the heart of the backstage area, to ensure that none of us would attempt to escape. Alpha's blue eyes locked with my brown ones, and they widened with the same curiosity I saw hints of back on the stairs. I shouldn't be banking on this Ghoul's trust and concern. With the stories and rumors I heard about the Nameless Ghouls, I feared I might wind up as another one of their sacrifices they offered to Mammon every night. For now, I'd just call this strange, belligerent sexual tension, especially since I had no idea who Alpha truly was.

"Come on, fourth caste!" one of the stage assistants yelled at me. "We cannot keep the recruiters waiting!"

"I'm coming!" I was about to shout, before accidentally bumping right into the chest of the person in front of me and falling ass-first to the floor. I dusted off my skirt and tried to rise to my feet, but my knee was still so wobbly that it would be next to impossible. Mammon be damned, why was I always so klutzy?

But then, a black, leather-clad hand tipped with golden fingernails grabbed onto mine and helped me up to my feet. Standing in front of me was a somewhat short man wearing a black and purple chasuble embroidered with excruciating detail and a tall mitre emblazoned with the logo of the Ghost Project, an inverted cross with a ‘G’ smack dab in the middle. His face was elaborately painted up in a skeletal design, and his mismatched eyes of green and white went wide with surprise.

My heart refused to continue beating, sinking to my stomach as all my fears resurfaced.

I had just run into His Unholy Majesty himself, Papa Emeritus III.

"You’re..." I squeaked before quickly lowering to my scraped, possibly bruised knees. "Your Unholy Majesty, I am so sorry that I—“

"Hush, child." Papa's voice was light of youth, but tinged with a raspy Italian accent. When Papa grabbed my chin of my mask and forced me to stare into his eyes, he gave a brief sound of amusement. "Ah, so you are one of the women chosen to fight for my hand! I knew I recognized your mask from the monitors. You know the competition will be rather... challenging, my lovely."

"I've heard," I said in a voice just above a whisper, "and I'm eager to do my best, Your Unholy Majesty. I will do my best to please you, the Nameless Ghouls, and the Ghost Project."

"Ha! Ambition is quite the driving force, isn't it? It always overtakes us all. I sense potential in you, Miss... what's you name again?"

"Sofia Almquist of the fourth caste, Your Unholy Majesty."

"Sofia..." Papa said my name slowly, like he was savoring it. Almost like he’d heard my name before. "Ms. Almquist." He grinned through his black-and-white painted lips. "Yes... I know you will do whatever it takes to become my bride. Just know that you will have to take some..." Papa was careful to choose his words. " _Risks_ to ensure your place in the competition."

"Yes, Your Unholy Majesty, I—“

"Papa. You may call me Papa, Sofia. We're friends now, are we not?"

"Friends?"

Papa chuckled in the dark, seductive way I was used to hearing in the hymn known as 'Zenith', the kind that sent shivers down my spine whenever I listened to my daily-required-listening record. "You know who I am and such. We've been quite well acquainted, then, no?"

"But I don't know what kind of secrets _you_ hide," I said cautiously.

"Well, everyone has their illusions, myself included." Papa awkwardly coughed into his hand. "I must be heading off to my spot in the wings now, Ms. Almquist. I will see you... soon."

"Yes, thank you, Your Unholy Maj—I mean, Papa.” I made no effort to hide the disgust in my voice. “I must be heading off, too… you know, to start staking out my fellow competitors.” I began my walk to the tents, feeling Papa's lingering stare behind me.

"Wait!" Before I could move another inch, Papa grabbed onto my shoulder and pulled out something from his robes. "I wanted to give you a little present, Ms. Almquist. A token of our meeting."

In his hand was a silver chain with two pewter charms attached. The charms were carved in the likenesses of the Sun and the Moon, beams of light that never shone through the smog-filled skies of the Kingdom. I may have never believed in Papa's bizarre revelations, but I did always believe in the power of nature. Someday, the light would overshadow the dark, and this was a thought I kept in my mind every single day. The sun gave me guidance, while the moon gave me influence. Did Papa just so happen to know about my broadcasts, and what I personally believed in? He was a secret fan of mine, wasn't he?

But really, was he?

"I... thank you, Papa." I took the necklace and raised it up to my eyes. "This is absolutely beautiful!” It was indeed, with the intricate carvings inside the charms. When I looked back up at Papa, his normally stony glare had become soft and miserable, almost as if my reaction brought despair to his heart. "Are you all right?"

"What?" Papa's head shot back up and his eyes hardened again. "Oh, I apologize. My damn mind just so happened to take me back to the past again... but that is something we shall not discuss. You must go to the tents, my dear, and become one with the Ghost Project for your sacrifice. Go on."

"Of course, sir."

As Papa went off on his way, my heart began to ache. There was perhaps a side of Papa I never knew about, a side so saddened and lonesome that he had to fight to hide it every day. All the stories and accounts I've heard of Papa made him out to be a cold man, detached and without emotion. But something in the way I acted brought him back to the past he refused to speak about. Was there a part of his story even I didn't know?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia meets Stefan Eriksson, a talent agent who happens to know plenty of secrets about Papa and the Ghouls. But what price must Sofia pay to sign Stefan on as her mentor through the challenge?

I rushed over to the tents just as my fellow caste women were approached by several nuns and men in black suits with clipboards in hand, hungry for the information that may make us or break us. They were the Ghost Project's recruiters, seeking to convert Pit dwellers into worshippers that strongly believed in what Papa preached. They visited each of the castes, including the eighth, every month for a week, and they usually brought back only twenty dwellers in total up to the Pinnacle. Wouldn't they ever get the memo that some people simply don't want to believe in Mammon, or want to fall victim to the temptation of luxury? Some people actually had brains free of vanity and greed.

“Sofia Almquist?” A man’s light, charming voice called out. It almost reminded me of Papa’s, but free of the Italian accent. “I need you.”

My eyes fell upon the owner of the voice, a young man with soft brown eyes that hid behind a red-and-gold jester mask. Knowing I didn't have much of a choice but to see who hid behind the mask, I followed the man into one of the dark tents. Once he ensured that the flaps were shut, the man turned to me and threw off his mask, revealing slicked-back dark hair and a grin that was usually used by the recruiters to make people feel at ease.

"You can take your mask off," the man told me. "We've got fresh air in here." He gestured over to a machine billowing out cold air.

I took off my Bauta mask, brushing back stray curls of hair that fell into my eyes. Once the man saw my face, he gasped and muttered something under his breath that I couldn't quite pick up.

“Uh… are you all right?” I asked.

"What you did out there with Papa was amazing, Ms. Almquist!” The man was gushing like a Pinnacle girl catching sight of a Nameless Ghoul. “Already you two have the right chemistry to set things off right, and you didn’t even need to follow a script!”

"I mean, that was only my intuition," I replied awkwardly. "You know... he rules over the Kingdom, so I had to show him _some_ respect."

"No, no, that's not what I'm talking about." The man sat in a black folding chair. "I can help you through this challenge. Trust me, the things the Missionary Men and Papa have in mind for all of you are quite extraneous, let alone degrading and obscene... for you Pit folk, anyway. A fourth caste personality like you cannot be soiled by the tasks at hand, Sofia, so I'm going to help you survive."

“What do you mean?” I asked warily. “And who are you? I mean, your voice sounds a little familiar, but—“

The recruiter whipped out a business card from his blazer pocket. “I’m Stefan Eriksson, most commonly known as the Agent. As in, _the_ Agent. I’ve been seeking out fourth caste talent for almost six years now, and trust me, I know my way around when it comes to people who hold the best qualities. Of course, I know who you are, Sofia.”

“So you’ve heard my broadcasts?” I asked with a raise of my eyebrow.

“Yes, I’m a big fan! The way you describe the hidden beauty of the world, and your stance on the current events in the Pinnacle and the Pit… oh, you’re so amazing, Sofia. You truly have a gift.”

“Well, thanks,” I chuckled, “but I can’t call myself a rebel. I just speak from my mind!”

“But that’s what we’re going to play up sooner or later! Look, Sofia, I’ve got a plan, and whichever way it runs will bring you to the top spot at the end of the game. I guarantee it! All you need to do is sign me on as your Agent, and we’ll be good to go.” He leaved through some papers on the clipboard before arriving at what appeared to be a contract.

I took the clipboard out of his hands and briefly skimmed through the document, trying to find if there was a clause that would instantly fuck me over in the long run. Unless the words were constructed in a way I wouldn’t be able to be fooled by, the contract seemed legit. All it pretty much said was that, ‘I hereby declare Stefan Eriksson to be my Agent for the duration of the Ghost Project’s bridal selection process.’

“Wait…” I murmured. “Before I sign this contract, what is it supposed to promise?”

“That I make you into the celebrity you wished to be,” Stefan simply replied with a slight chuckle. “You’ve always wanted to be famous, Sofia, but you’ve had to run your radio show through the most difficult of times.”

“Wait a second, celebrity?” Doubt started to seep through me. “I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a celebrity. I speak for the people of the Pit, people who are too afraid to freely express their opinions. And to be honest, I try to distract people from the darkness of this world.”

“It goes more than the darkness shutting out the light, Sofia. This contract is to ensure your safety and your role. Just think, if you’re a runner-up in the challenge, I can give your show all the publicity it needs to become a hit sensation! I’ll move you up to the Pinnacle and you can have a nice studio apartment overlooking the Tower of Mammon, and all the rich fashions one could ever want!”

“Are you crazy?” I asked apprehensively. “Do you really think I can be so blinded by luxuries and temptation? You’ve got some modus operandi, pal. My show is doing just fine without those mongering dogs like the Pinnacle dwellers clamoring for regurgitated news.”

Stefan’s face fell as he slowly moved the clipboard away from me. “Well, tell that to your show’s number one fan.”

“I know how much you like my show, no need to be so vain about it.”

“Haha! No, not me! The biggest fan of your show happens to be our very own Unholy leader himself.”

“You’re saying that Papa likes my show?” At least that would explain the fancy gift.

“He eagerly waits for new episodes like a little kid receiving gifts for his birthday. Seriously, I watch him in his office, sitting by the radio, waiting for your sweet voice to fill the airwaves with your wondrous stories. He seems very… drawn to them, almost like he regretted coming into office in these dark times. You can restore his heart, Sofia. Make him change the Kingdom into something of substance again. Make the world beautiful again. I know you have that power. Why do you think he gave you that necklace? He knows exactly who you are, Sofia, and that was his way of telling you.”

“You know, Mr. Eriksson… I think you’ve got a point.”

Maybe my voice could restore the Kingdom back to the picturesque, lovely world I saw through my books and my imagination. If I won this challenge and married Papa, everybody’s lives would change. Desmond would be able to see Mom and Dad again. Mara wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking into the Pinnacle and painting the buildings and the architecture without getting caught by Sister. And of course, I could bring Mr. Lars Peterson into office and have him be an assistant of sorts to Papa, helping him change the Kingdom into the glory it once held in the days of Linkoping.

“So you finally understand!” Stefan said with a smile. “All that gibberish I just said about fame and luxury was nothing but extraneous bullshit I would’ve told to someone from the seventh or eighth castes. I believe out of all of these drafted women, you are the one with the most potential, Ms. Almquist. You can really make our world a better place. Now, how’s about signing this contract for the both of us?”

Looking back, I was grateful to be chosen. I’d be able to get all the information I needed to really start making a change in this messed up society, and if I did wind up married to Papa and sitting on the silver throne of the Kingdom, I’d be able to manipulate his mind just as he did to his people. He was able to put minds at ease with promises of fame and luxury and dreams come true. I’d potentially own that same power, if I speak to the right people and take heed of Stefan’s direction. Stefan was the strongest link in this whole competition – he knew Papa’s court as well as any of the Nameless Ghouls. I’d have to trust him more than I wanted to.

The contract was brought right into my face again, and this time, without any hesitance, I picked up the feather pen and signed my name, letting the blood-red ink soak through the white page. Stefan nearly squealed from excitement as he took the contract off his clipboard, rolled it up, and placed it into his pocket.

Doubt crept through me again. Deals with the Devils weren't all that uncommon in the Kingdom of Meliora, and I may have just signed myself into one. I had to view this as a sacrifice I was willing to risk in the name of my family, my friends, and the Pit, and if I wanted to make my mark on changing society for the better, this was the right way to start off my journey.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia begins to make her assumptions about Papa, unsure of whether or not he’s more than the charismatic man he seems to be onstage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/22/17: I'm changing up the story a bit starting with this chapter.

After a final handshake and an awkward hug from Stefan, I put my mask back on as one of the nuns escorted me back to Meliora Square and to my spot in the fourth caste seating area. “That’s a pretty necklace you’ve got there, girl,” she said as she looked at my new necklace suspiciously. “Where did you get it from, if I may ask?”

I couldn't just tell this nun it was a present from Papa! "A friend gave it to me a while back, before he relocated to the Pinnacle. He wanted it to be a memory I would have of him forever."

"How lovely. May I see it a little more closely?”

I forked over the necklace to the nun reluctantly. She brought the sun and moon charms to her eyes, and gaped in wonder and awe at the intricate detail carved into them. “You know, Papa's lady friend had a necklace that looked somewhat like this. The sun and the moon… some sort of symbols left over from the purer days of the world. She was a very intelligent woman, always knew how to speak from her mind. Papa admired her greatly before... before dastardly things happened to them both."

"What happened to them?" The more I knew about Papa and his past, the more I could use the details to help me rise to the throne.

"I... I'm not exactly allowed to say," the nun replied uneasily as she returned the necklace to me. "After all, we are not supposed to discuss the past in the Kingdom of Meliora. But all I can say was that there were... certain events that led to the Kingdom's forming. Perhaps you shall find them out during the challenge. I'll give you a hint... check Papa’s library, if you can get in there. A smart girl like you could spend hours in there learning about the past and the present, and of the hidden beauties of the world. I am quite familiar with your views, Ms. Almquist. I believe if you receive the right amount of information, it may as well help our Kingdom become how it used to be before… the Dark Days. Now off you go, child. May Mammon be with you.”

I bowed my head in thanks and made my way up to the seating area, holding onto the handlebar for dear life. I was still shocked and confused by all the people I met in the past twenty minutes. An agent who may be holding secrets of his own in addition to those of the Ghost Project; a wicked old woman clearly hiding behind a kindly mask; two Nameless Ghouls who were nicer than they seemed; a nun who knew my identity; and the most surprising of all, Papa Emeritus himself, an actual fan of my broadcasts. I had no idea these people of the Pinnacle knew of my broadcasts, let alone what I spoke of. People who usually spoke against the Pinnacle and the Ghost Project were executed right away, and my musings of nature and of the past would certainly be blocked from passing through the airwaves. What made me so special to all these people? Did the Pit dwellers hold back the truth, or was it the other way around?

“Hang on, Sof, I’m coming for you!” Mara cried out when she saw me hobbling up the steps. She hurried down to the top tier of the fifth caste seating area, slung her arm around me, and carefully led me up to our row. “Oh, am I glad to see you! How did everything go down there? Was Papa a dick? Oh, and Alpha… Alpha carried you, Sofia! What a lucky—“

“Nothing really happened,” I said quickly, “nothing too bad, anyway. But I’ve got some pretty interesting stories to tell you all.”

“Oh, I love it when you’ve got stories! You’ve got to tell us everything!”

When we side-stepped into our row, Desmond threw his arms over my waist. “Sofie! You’re okay!”

“The poor lad was crying the entire time you were gone,” Alfred informed me with a sympathetic glimmer in his blue eyes. “But we’re happy to see they didn’t hurt you down there, Sofia. After what happened with your ankle we were nervous they would do far worse.”

“I’m fine,” I told them all reassuringly as I sat down. “I was telling Mara that I’ve got a few things to tell you guys, though. For instance, Alpha and Omega. They were actually… pretty nice for Nameless Ghouls.”

“Ha, I thought so!” Mara exclaimed. “Those Ghouls aren’t as bad as we thought, huh?”

“They’re still sex-seekers and deviants despite their kindly stances,” Alfred said sternly. “So much for them being ‘keepers of the peace’!”

“But they can play music really well!” Desmond added. “I like when Omega does the head roll thing and he stomps around like a dinosaur. It’s so funny!”

“Oh, and I had to sign on with an agent,” I added. “Stefan Eriksson, ever heard of him? He said he seeks out fourth caste talent every once in a while.”

“Another predatory cat in the industry,” Alfred remarked with a scoff. “The man’s shrouded in mystery, though. He’s a member of Papa’s court and he’s very selective.”

“Well, he was very keen on choosing me. He wanted to sign me on right away, but I had to think it through first. But then, he brought up how I could get started with changing society, making the Kingdom a better place to live in! Papa Emeritus… oh, speaking of him.” I took the infamous necklace out of my skirt pocket. “Papa gave me this when I bumped into him backstage. I’m still not sure why.”

“Papa… gave you that?” Mara swiped the necklace out of my hands and examined it closely. “Holy shit, Sof! We could sell this thing on the black market and make enough money to move up to the Pinnacle!”

“No!” I took back the necklace. “We can’t do that! I’ve got to find out why Papa gave me this first. You can’t sell something given to you by the most important person in the Kingdom so easily!”

“How did he give it to you?” Desmond asked.

“He just sort of… handed it to me, and he looked sad, too. I think he listens to the show.”

“How could that bastard be a fan of the show?” Mara asked rather loudly.

“Mara, hush!” Alfred admonished.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Stefan only told me he listens to my broadcasts, and he… he rather likes them. He said that… Papa wants to make changes too, but he’s not sure where to start.”

“I’m sorry, Sofia, but anything that a Pinnacle dweller like Stefan Eriksson says is a load of… dung,” Alfred advised me, careful in choosing his words. “There is no way in Hell that the environment or the hierarchy can be changed so suddenly. You have to understand that. I understand you’re somewhat of an idealist, but it’s not going to happen.”

“But still, Alfred, think of the things I could tell Papa when I get into his office! For example, he can… he can cut down on the factory buildings sending that horrid smoke up in the air, and not have all the castes stuck underground all the time—“

“This is an old, corrupt Swedish city, not the whole universe. Think of how the entire world is suffering through the climate changes and the rebellion. And don’t get me started on the United States, with their zombie apocalypses.”

A reverted recording of monks praying boomed throughout the arena, sending the Pinnacle girls below us in a rapture of applause. The concert was about to begin, so Alfred quickly silenced himself with one more cough in his handkerchief. Desmond squeezed my hand nervously, and his eyes widened in fear. I rubbed my hand on his back reassuringly; he never liked when the ‘Masked Ball’ tune played. I couldn’t blame him; it filled the arena with an ominous, dreadful aura, reminding us that the end was nigh if we didn’t commit ourselves to the Ghost Project. Unfortunately, in my situation, I had no choice. By signing on with Stefan, I was now officially a Child of Ghost, a Pinnacle girl who would learn the ways of seduction and sin. My future was unclear; would I indeed reign over this Kingdom, or would I be seduced by greed?

The Ghouls filed onto the stage one by one, which only increased the intensity of applause. There was the Air Ghoul with his tall stature; the Earth Ghoul, the shortest and most playful of the five; the Water Ghoul, or Beta, with his cocky stance; and of course, the two Ghouls I had become most familiar with, Alpha and Omega. The beginning and the end. The phrase still haunted my mind.

“Not as good as seeing them up close, huh?” Mara asked loudly in my ear.

“I guess,” I replied, squinting my eyes for a better look at Alpha and Omega. Being so high up, the Ghouls looked like black and silver smudges with hints of glimmer and shine. “And I guess it’s an exhilarating experience when you’re carried down by one of them?”

“You bet!” Mara smacked my shoulder. “No payback. I’m jealous, Sofia.”

“And now, presenting His Unholy Majesty himself, Papa Emeritus the third!” Sister Imperator announced with her usual, malicious glee.

The Ghouls played the opening notes of ‘Spirit’, and the air became tinged with a spicy, herbal aroma. You literally couldn’t see anything, not on the stage and not in the crowd. Alfred’s somewhat soft coughs became loud hacks, much to the dismay of the people around us. The poor man had a health condition, for crying out loud! They couldn’t show any consideration?

And then, Papa himself strolled onto the stage, the incense fog fading around him. The Ghouls played their instruments with wild fervor as Papa sang of absent spirits and wandering devils. If we didn’t throw ourselves into the vessel of possibilities, then we were practically good for nothings. It was a twisted form of positivity, a cruel form of encouragement. If we worked hard, we pleased the masses. I wasn’t very skilled at translating Papa’s cryptic lyrics, as he was rumored to be the ‘Ghoul Writer’. Perhaps a scholar like Lars Peterson or his son Gabriel knew. I’d have to ask before making my way up to the Pinnacle.

“How is everyone doing tonight?” Papa asked the crowd when ‘Spirit’ was over. The Pinnacle girls gave their usual shrieks and cries, while a few people of the castes hooped and hollered enthusiastically. “Ah, very good, I see. First off, I would like to dedicate tonight’s performance to the fourteen women chosen to fight for my hand in marriage… all of you have honored your Kingdom with pride and dignity, and I believe you all will make your best efforts to… please me, if you will.” Papa chuckled darkly. “However, they say that love is blind. It is so difficult to see the faults in a person, the dark secrets they hide underneath. But I believe that this challenge will bring the best out of these women, the… sinful desires they hold deep inside of them.”

In that moment, Papa’s mismatched eyes scanned the crowd, and eventually he looked up to the fourth caste seating area. Although the stage was a good hundred or so feet below, his eyes locked with mine, almost like he knew exactly where I was sitting.

“And of course,” Papa continued, his voice dwindling, “there are dreams we have that in these days can simply not come true, but only if we try.”

He fucking knew. He heard my broadcast earlier!

“But enough of my philosophical ramblings. They are not what you want to hear tonight! Let us fill the air with our cacophonous symphonies!” Papa turned to his Ghouls with a nearly violent spin and a toss of his robes. “Let us play Cirice, boys, in honor of the chosen women tonight!”

The lyrics of ‘Cirice’ could not haunt me anymore tonight. “I can feel the thunder that’s breaking in your heart,” Papa sang with an utmost sympathetic tone, “I can see through the scars inside you.” And maybe soon I’d be able to see past Papa’s very own scars, and find the supposed broken man underneath the greasepaint and robes. I glanced over at Sister, who stood on the stage, bopping her head along to the melody. She was up to something, I knew it. That wicked smile, that dark look in her eyes, especially while watching Papa stroll about the stage… the stereotypical witch was devising a plan that everyone was oblivious to, everyone but me.

“Sof, he’s looking over here again!” Mara said excitedly, tapping my shoulder and pointing at Papa. “He’s looking for you!”

"Can't you see that you're lost?" Papa sang slowly, approaching the right-hand side of the stage where he had a perfect view of the fourth caste seating area. He bent to his knees, a bit hesitantly because of his chasuble, and pointed a black finger tipped with a golden fingernail in my direction. "Can't you see that you're lost without me?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia tries to rebel, but when she's taken to the Devil Church's hospital wing, she meets a Ghoul who may have secrets of his own.

After the concert concluded with a rousing rendition of 'Monstrance Clock', we were allowed to give our family our final goodbyes, our last rites, before heading off to the Devil Church. Desmond wouldn't let go of the hem of my skirt, practically clinging to me as we descended downstairs and back to ground level. Terror widened my little brother's dark brown eyes, and his body trembled beside mine. I had no idea where Desmond would go while I was gone - perhaps in Mara and Alfred's care, where I knew he'd be safe. It tore at my heart that I'd be leaving his side. This was a young boy who had seen and heard about the horrific things Papa and the Ghouls have done, and now, I would possibly play victim to their wicked sins.

"Ms. Almquist! Ms. Almquist!"

Lars Peterson and his son Gabriel hurried toward the bottom level of the fourth caste seating area, with many people following behind them. My face turned a beet red. Yes, it was time for another one of my 'live sermons', where the most diehard fans of my broadcasts corralled around me like I was their messiah as I spoke from my mind. I didn't mind them, really, but I didn't want to reach Pinnacle level celebrity status, especially now that I had signed on with Stefan Eriksson.

"Mr. Peterson!" I grinned to push back the huge grimace forming on my face. "What's going on?"

"These folks wanted to say their final goodbyes to you, Sofia," Lars replied wistfully. "They want to hear your voice one last time before you go up..." He glared behind his shoulder at the ominous Papa statue in the distance. "Up there. Do you think you have anything to say?"

Chattering away on the radio was one thing, but pure public speaking was another. With many eyes watching you, it was hard to keep track of your thoughts, especially if faces were hidden behind masks.

"You can do this, Sof!" Mara whispered in my ear.

I cleared my throat. "Well," I began, "I really wasn't expecting to be chosen at all." Already people were tearing up. "But unfortunately, it is what fate had in store for me. I'm not sure what this challenge is going to be like. I have no idea what Papa and the Ghouls will make me do. However, I will partake in this challenge for all of you, for all of my supporters. I am so glad you all listen to my views of the world every single day. I feel like... whatever is on my mind does in fact matter to people. There are still good people in the Kingdom of Meliora that know of justice. And this is something I will prove to Papa Emeritus and his Ghouls, those damned Missionary Men who think they can control our lives. They think if we're mindless and we submit to the dark religion, then we'll achieve our own power. This is not the case! We must show them that our hearts guide our hands. If we work together, we can improve the Kingdom of Meliora and make it a better place to thrive!”

“But when is our mediator going to get here, Sofia?” Gabriel asked in disbelief.

“We need to be patient,” I said, slightly regretting my words, “but I know whoever it’ll be will be here soon.”

“What are you doing?”

I shuddered as one of the Nameless Ghouls approached my listeners and I, a thick, brown book in the crook of his arm. He was of tall stature, and his sloe brown eyes never blinked, gazing at my form and my mask. Some of the listeners shrieked and huddled together in fear, hiding from the Nameless Ghoul known simply as Brother Air. He was the most intelligent of the Ghouls, a scientist and former priest who mostly kept to himself. Rumor had it that he was currently working on a project to wipe away Pit job positions, replacing them with automatons who were capable of doing anything they were programmed to do. The mere thought of Brother Air’s project made me sick. If more people went without jobs, especially in the Pit, then how would we live ourselves?

“I… I was saying my final goodbyes to my family, Brother Air,” I replied. “I have a lot of friends that I need to say goodbye to.”

“Your words sounded nothing like farewells,” Air said apprehensively, taking a step closer to me. “Rather, it sounded like you were… preaching to the masses, telling them you will fight against us.”

“That’s not what I was trying to say. I was only trying to reassure them that everything would be all right."

Air’s eyes went wide in suspicion. “You’re a rebel, aren’t you? Are you some kind of fugitive from the eighth caste?”

“No!” I shouted. “I only want things to be better! I mean, fuck, we’re called the Kingdom of Meliora! Meliora means ‘the pursuit of something better', doesn't it?"

"She's right," Mr. Peterson added in my defense, daring to confront the Air Ghoul at my side. "Sofia was only trying to express her opinions on the matter, and nothing more than that. She's leaving her friends and family! Can't you give her some time to adjust?"

"Her time is up," Air said with no remorse. "The other ladies' last rites have concluded and I must escort them to the Devil Church. Sister Imperator is strict on punctuality, and so am I."

"Just give me one more minute, please." I covered my eyes with the back of my hand to hide away my incoming tears. "There are a few people I need to specifically address."

"One more minute,” Air growled, “and that’s all I can give you.”

I took a deep breath as the countdown began. I needed to watch what I said now that a Nameless Ghoul, and one of the scariest ones at that, was monitoring my sermon now.

“Mara, you’ve been the greatest friend anyone could ever ask for. You’ve been my support buddy for the longest time and I thank you for always being there for me, whether it was at work or out in the field. Lars, your wisdom and your passion about the world has inspired me so, so much, and if it wasn’t for you I’d have no idea what my views would be like. And Desmond? Please, please stay strong for me. I’ll be back before you know it. I love you so much, and you’ve come a long way. Use your art to teach others—“

“Time’s up,” Air hissed in my ear. He grabbed onto my wrist tightly and started to drag me in the direction of the stage.

“That wasn’t a minute!” I cried, my eyes tearing up at the sight of my brother collapsing to his knees and sobbing. “Please, I didn’t finish talking to my brother! He needed to hear—“

“You’ll be able to send him a telegram from the Devil Church. I am sorry, Ms. Almquist, but we have a very specific schedule we need to follow.”

“You bastard! You aren’t sorry at all! You’re just following what _he_ told you—“

Air drew out a syringe filled with a red liquid from his cassock pocket and jabbed it into the delicate flesh of my forearm. Gabriel and Mara immediately came running to my aid as the rest of my listeners screamed and begged for the Ghoul to let me go. My body losing consciousness, I fell to my knees in a slump as the numbing effects of whatever Air just shot in me took over. I couldn’t even breathe, choking as I gasped out for air. I’d been tranquilized, forcefully shut up so I had no choice but to go to the Devil Church.

And as I lay fading out, the last thing I could hear were my brother’s screams.

* * *

 A sharp needle pierced through the soft flesh of my arm, throwing me back into the void of consciousness. As my vision became clear and my eyes adjusted to the rather dimly lit room, my body started to shake in panic as memories from the past twenty four hours came back to me. I was drafted to represent the fourth caste in the competition for Papa’s hand in marriage. His Unholy Majesty Papa Emeritus III, the very ruler that I detested, gave me some mysterious necklace and hinted at sharing the same beliefs that I had. Then, as I tried to defend my people from the Nameless Ghouls’ tyranny, I… blacked out.

“Stay still, child.” The nun standing at my bedside withdrew the needle from my arm and tied a white bandage around it. “I was required to take some blood. We want to make sure it is clean and free of any diseases.”

“Ww-where am I?” Judging by the equipment around me, I assumed I was in one of the many medical wards of the second caste. I'd only been here once in my lifetime, to have my tonsils removed. The putrid stench of chemicals and plastic unnerved me to no end, and the anticipation of someone you hardly knew examining your body was even worse.

“Why, in the Pinnacle of course!” My heart went cold. “Today is the preparation day for all of Papa’s potential brides. Unfortunately, you had a bit of a concussion in Meliora Square last night. Papa saw it all as he was being ushered back to his limousine, and demanded you be held in the Devil Church’s hospital wing until you were feeling better. I assure you, Ms. Almquist, you are currently in the safest care.”

“But what about my family? I didn’t finish saying goodbye!”

The nun clicked her tongue and held back a grimace. "I'm so sorry, my child, but... you happened to miss your chance. Your health is much more important anyhow. After all, if Papa chooses you, you want to be in the right state of body and mind, correct?"

“No!” I bunched up the plastic lining I lay upon and threw it at the nun. “I don’t care about this competition! Just send me back home, please! I disqualify myself!”

“I’m afraid you cannot do that. You were chosen to represent your caste, and I recommend you view your choosing as a badge of honor. Think of your new life in the Pinnacle, girl! You get to be surrounded by the gentry and the riches—“

“I said I don’t care!”

“What’s going on here?”

I bit down on my lip until I was able to taste blood. One of the Nameless Ghouls stood in the entryway of the ward, his hands folded behind his back as if Papa was nearby.

“Ms. Almquist did not finish her last rites last night,” the nun informed the Ghoul. “She unfortunately did not say her final farewells to her family.”

The Ghoul’s blue eyes went soft. “Leave us, Sister Lilith. I will speak with her.”

“As you command, Brother Alpha.” The nun – Sister Lilith – lowered her head as she disposed of the needle and exited the ward.

The Ghoul – Alpha, from earlier – approached my bedside and knelt down to be at my level. “Now, tell me what upsets you, Ms. Almquist?”

I brushed away tears with the crook of my arm. “They didn’t let me say goodbye to my family! Don’t you know how much my little brother is worried because I might not ever see him again? I was his only family left! And now you bastards have me stuck up here all for some competition that you’re only using for television ratings! I don’t deserve to be here, I don’t!”

Shockingly, Alpha showed some compassion, bringing me close to his chest and running his hand through my dark curls. “Do not worry, Ms. Almquist. My brothers and I are actually quite glad that you were chosen. We are quite familiar with your broadcasts—“

"Oh, you guys, too?" I jerked away from the Ghoul’s embrace. Great, first Papa was listening in on my show, now the Ghouls? “What now? Are you going to whip me in Meliora Square because of what I’ve said?”

“No,” Alpha said firmly, “because you speak the truth. Your soliloquies are the answers for what we need to do. Papa never holds audiences with the citizens anymore, unless it involves his music somehow. I don’t blame him, though. Ever since his brother died he’s been a bit of a wreck. The anthems of Meliora are the only things that distract him from all the tragedy he’s endured in his life. And don’t get me started on Sister Imperator… his stepmother. No wonder why he’s been complaining about that receding hairline of his already.”

“Which no offense is kind of ugly,” I said slowly, in fear of this Ghoul changing his thoughts about me. “Maybe he got that from his stepmom, too.”

Alpha chuckled behind his mask. “You know, Brother Water has told me you’ve got quite the little sarcastic spitfire in you, Ms. Almquist. And now I see why. You make light of every single little thing that passes through your mind.”

“It’s the perk of being observant… and cynical too, I guess. Sometimes, making fun of stuff helps with coping. It’s helped me get through a lot.”

“I’ll admit, I do it too, when no one’s looking. I guess I’ve earned the label of being the Fire Ghoul then, huh?”

A beeping sound then echoed throughout the hospital room. Alpha dug into his cassock pocket, pulled out a touch-screen device, and scrolled through the message he was presumably sent. “Damn.”

“What?” For no reason at all, I noticed my hand was on Alpha’s shoulder, as if I was comforting him. Mammon be damned, was I so intrigued by this Ghoul already?

“I hate to cut this visit short, Sofia, but Brother Air wants me to visit him in his laboratory.” He adjusted his mask and coat before making his way back to the door. “Just know that if you need anything, you can always request my presence.”

Alpha couldn’t leave now! I had so much to ask him, so much to tell him. For instance, the whole ‘beginning and the end’ thing he said to me when he carried me to the stage. And is Papa really the bitter, wounded lost soul that he made himself out to be? But I suppose I’d find these things out in time. After all, it takes a gradual amount of time to unfurl a secret.

“Of course,” I simply replied. “I’ll find you somehow.”

“Well, a smoke signal would…” Alpha shook his head. “Damn, I forgot. You wouldn’t know how to make a smoke signal.”

I chuckled. “I’m not a magician, so… no, sorry. But I’ll be sure to find you somewhere in this… uh… Devil Church.”

Alpha gave a quick nod before making his exit. Replaying our conversation in my mind, I started to realize that the Pit dwellers may have been wrong about Papa and the Ghouls for all these years. From what I’ve seen so far, they’ve been pretty nice and well-mannered. But again, their masks and greasepaint could only hide so much. I didn’t know what they were really like in the midst of pleasure, or the midst of planning out the Kingdom’s uprising. I would not let myself become a pawn in this game. Even if I do wind up on the Kingdom’s throne, I’m going to have the power to change things for the better, as Stefan reminded me. I need to have hope, like I always did.

And like Lars Peterson once told me, hope is stronger than fear.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia prepares for an inspection that will make or break her place in the competition for Papa’s hand.

About five minutes after Alpha’s departure, I received another visitor – a visitor I didn't really want to see right now.

“Yoo hoo, Sofia!” Stefan was knocking at my door, his voice loud with excitement. “You doing any better in there now that you’ve gotten a blood transfusion? The nurses just cleared you for your preparation and inspection tonight!”

“Come in, Stefan!” I shouted, shoving the crumbled up pieces of plastic behind me. “We’ve got to talk.”

Stefan threw open the door and sauntered into the room, his usual clipboard in hand. He changed up his appearance slightly today. When yesterday he had blue eyes, today they were brown, and his hair was arranged in a swept-to-the-side style. He wore a bloody red tie and a crisp, black suit, similar to the suits of the Nameless Ghouls. The only part of him that remained the same was the welcoming, almost too calm smile plastered on his face, showing sharp, white teeth.

“Any new developments going on?” Stefan was already hungry for answers. “Come on, Sofia, there’s a reason why you blacked out at the Square last night. Did someone just rip your heart right out of your chest?”

"You could say that," I replied mournfully. "You see, a lot of my listeners came up to me right after Papa's concert, worried sick about where I was going. I tried telling them, but then Brother Air broke it all up. He injected me with this... I don't know what it was, a potion maybe? And then I woke up here, weak as fuck."

"But your records say that you suffer from..." Stefan glanced down at some papers attached to his clipboard. "Anemia. A hereditary disease where you occasionally have a low blood count. You sure that wasn't it?"

"Not this time, oddly enough. But I felt like... somehow..." I recalled back to when Papa sang Cirice and found me in the audience. "Okay, so, you know how Papa stares a girl down in the audience and practically penetrates her with his eyes?"

"Ah yes, his classic tactic," Stefan replied with a laugh. "It works well with the ladies, and some guys too, believe it or not. But let's keep that a secret between you and me."

“I don’t think Papa’s creepy, blood-magic powers were at fault though. But… I woke up here, in this hospital room, without the chance to say goodbye to my family and friends. Almost like… almost like someone’s playing a game with my mind.” Realizing how absolutely impossible this was, I shook my head. “Strike that, reverse it. But still. They didn’t give me the chance to say goodbye, and who knows if I’ll win the competition.”

Stefan placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “Sofia, I did reach out to your little brother shortly before he left Meliora Square. Desmond, his name is? Once I introduced myself to him and that gal pal of yours, I told them that you’re in safe hands regarding this challenge. Desmond specifically told me he will try to be strong for you. And so did your friend Mara. They’ll make sure the show goes on.”

I sighed. “I hope so. Thankfully Mara’s got a good grip of what I usually cover. Oh, and Lars Peterson too. He knows us well, so he’ll definitely have a spot at the station.”

“Ll-Lars Peterson?” Stefan’s bright smile faded a bit, and his voice got lower. “You mean that scholar?”

“Yes. He’s a rather fond colleague of mine. And his son, Gabriel… he’s nice too. I don’t really talk to him too often, but the writings he’s shown me were very thought-out. I think I’ve got myself a rival.”

A switch had flipped inside of Stefan’s mind. From the looks of it, Lars Peterson wasn’t well liked by the people of the Pinnacle. Lars once told me stories of how he’d sneak up to the Pinnacle and protest Papa II’s reign right in front of the Devil Church, only to be violently cast down from the heavens to the ground. He still has the electric shock marks on the sides of his head to prove so. Yet, the proud, elderly man courageously lived on, spry and carefree like a man much younger. No wonder why he inspired me so much. His invigorating spirit reminded me to act upon and develop my own, and it’s something I’d need to do if I wanted to survive up here.

“Well, isn’t that sweet.” Stefan’s voice dripped with a condescending tone. “I’d love to chat you up more on your past, Sofia, but first we need to plan what you’ll look like at inspection.” He wandered to my side and took a handful of brown waves in his hand. “This shade of brown is way too dull. We’ll need to color it.”

“Color it?” I nearly yelled. “You said _inspection_ , not beautification!”

“Inspection is when Papa and the Ghouls will have a gander at the contenders after they’ve received some well-needed modifications,” Stefan informed me. “What, did you think Papa would want to take on some dirty technician from the sixth caste? Appearance matters here in the Pinnacle, Sofia. Why do you think I change my hair and eyes every day? It’s fun to be different.”

Anger boiled inside of me, but I wouldn’t protest. I had done way too much, and I’d only been awake for an hour. Then again, I wasn’t very fond of my mousy brown hair or the brown eyes that made me appear way too monochromatic. Perhaps it was nice to receive a refreshing change in looks, especially for a huge event like this. After all, my goal is to win this challenge, and lead Papa to a change of heart when it came to democracy. It sounded absolutely insane, but I would have to do whatever it takes to achieve my ends, even if it meant giving in to my own desires.

“All right, so we’ll color my hair,” I agreed. I gazed down at my nails and scoffed at how uneven and dull they were. “And we’ll need to do something about my nails, too. They’re so gross and dirty!”

Stefan chuckled. “Take it easy, Sofia. Everything you don’t like about yourself will be changed in no time! Let’s get you over to the beauticians and see what they have to say.”

Once Stefan brought me down to the forty-fifth floor of the Devil Church, the beauticians fussed and fawned over me like they hadn’t seen anyone from the sixth caste in their whole entire lives. Being sixth caste, we were bound to be a bit keener on our appearances than the other castes, the creative people we are. I always tried to keep up with current hairstyle trends; for instance, I cut my hair recently to a short, wavy style. The beauticians – Bette and Evelyn – brought me to a bath filled to the brim and scrubbed my skin clean like they were scrubbing dirt off of a treasured pearl. Bette clipped my nails down and waxed off any unnecessary body hair while Evelyn washed and treated my hair with fresh-scented oils. Occasionally, they’d stop their work and giggle to each other, not exchanging a single word. They were both pretty Pinnacle girls, their faces painted with the in-style black, winged eyeliner and bright red lips. I envied to be as beautiful as them, but with my rather thick figure and round face, it wouldn’t be that easy.

“So, Sofia,” Bette finally said as she stretched my eyelid taut and caked on a dark eye-shadow, “you’re from the fourth caste, right? What’s it like down there?”

“It’s, uh…” I wasn’t really sure how to respond. Every word I’d say from here on out mattered. I didn’t know if Bette and Evelyn secretly were members of Papa’s court, or what their relationships with the Nameless Ghouls were like. This wasn’t like my show where I could freely express my opinions to the people of the Pit. I was no celebrity here. To the Pinnacle goers, it was much better to live a vivid life of lies than it was to hear the truth. “It was rather interesting, to say the least. Everyone had at least one creative niche. Jewelry-making, clothing designing… my brother liked to make metal sculptures of animals.”

“How cute,” Evelyn drawled out in a sickly sweet voice.

“Yeah, he’s young,” I said with an awkward chuckle. “He’s just trying to come out of his shell. But-but to be honest, I’m glad I’m out of there. I’ve always wanted to see what life in the Pinnacle is like.”

“Oh, it’s the best,” Bette said airily. She took out a tube of dark red lip color and painted at my lips. “Evelyn and I used to live in the fourth caste, too. Once Stefan told us that the court was in need of new beauticians, we were just dying to come up here! But we miss our home sometimes. Sometimes, it’s the smaller things in the Pit that matter most than the grander things in the Pinnacle. There’s none of that small charm up here, no.” Bette shook her head and sat more upright. “But enough of that. That’s the past, and Mammon help me if Papa hears me saying things like that. Look in the mirror and tell us what you think!”

I gazed into the mirror and my eyes widened at the sight before me. I looked much more alive now that my hair gleamed and my skin glowed. My usual frizzy hair now remained at a uniform flatness, my somewhat overgrown eyebrows were trimmed down, and the makeup on my face made me look vampy, a bit darker than what I usually went for. For once, I felt confident in how I looked. I wasn’t the mousy-haired and oily faced Sofia Almquist of the past anymore. I wasn’t really sure who I was now, but from the looks of it, I was every Pinnacle girl’s potential dream.

“Oh, you look so beautiful, Sofia!” Evelyn chirped. “Papa’s going to think you’re so gorgeous!”

“You’ll definitely knock out the other contenders for sure,” Bette added.

Meanwhile, my own smile faded. All the confidence I had just felt was washed away, replaced with bitter dread and anxiety. This was a competition for looks first and personality second. The women would be standing in line like cattle waiting to be slaughtered in the factory, a cruel type-out audition to satisfy Papa’s vainer side. They didn’t call him the Brat Prince for nothing. What if Papa saw through my pretty makeup and hair and saw me as nothing but some overweight slob? Or better yet, since he knew about my show, what if he only took pity on me backstage just to calm me down from the nightmare that was to come? I was certain that a war was secretly brewing between the Pinnacle and the Pit, a war that would seal the deal on Papa’s reign. This was just his sick plan to find an heir. Mara was right – Papa’s such a cad, using any means necessary for him to win.

But I didn’t let my beauticians see my suffering. “You made me look wonderful,” I told them with a reassuring smile. “Thank you.”

Stefan burst through the salon doors and hummed a little melody. “Wow, you look absolutely stunning, Ms. Almquist!” he exclaimed. “Bette and Evelyn have done a marvelous job as always.”

“Why, thanks, sweetie!” Evelyn said, blushing. Bette then whispered something in Evelyn’s ear, which made her chuckle and grab onto Bette’s hand.

I glanced down at the plush white robe I wore. I’d been stripped of my maroon Pit clothing before Bette and Evelyn did their work, and appearing nude in front of Stefan was definitely not a state I wanted to be in right now. Thankfully enough, however, my now infamous charm necklace remained.

“So… Stefan, what are we doing about clothes now that we’ve got the face down?” I asked.

“Oh… yes.” Stefan’s voice faltered as if he had forgotten something quite important. “You see, Sofia, the inspection is just like an examination. Papa and the Ghouls, as well as Sister Imperator herself, will be checking every little square inch of you. Your skin… your hair… your figure—“

“No!” I crossed my arms in front of me in embarrassment. “They… they can’t—“

“Sofia, not to worry,” Stefan purred. “It’ll only be for about five seconds, and you’ll be totally alone. Think of it like a doctor’s appointment, almost… only a little more tantalizing.”

My brows knitted together, a sign of an incoming attack. “Stefan, I swear to Mammon—“

“Sofia.” Stefan placed a hand on my shoulder. “Please, do not be afraid. Everyone has their own little insecurities… even I’ve got a few. Papa won’t be on the hunt for those. He’s just looking for what makes you the most beautiful, the most unique. And after all, we do have a little bit of an advantage with him being a fan of your show, hmm?”

“I… I guess so.”

“See? It’ll all work out fine, I assure you. Just listen to Mr. Eriksson’s advice and you will do successfully. Okay?”

Reluctantly, I nodded and after saying my farewells to Bette and Evelyn, I followed Stefan into the elevator. We ascended up to the sixth-seventh floor, the top level of the Devil Church where one could gaze out of Papa’s towering miter and out into the busy Pinnacle streets. We passed through a rather dark, smoky room – the nave of the Devil Church, I suppose – and approached a mahogany table where a purple Bauta-masked, dark-robed woman sat, organizing paperwork.

The masked secretary looked up at us with dark blue eyes. “Name and former residence,” she said to me monotonously.

I fumbled on my words, but Stefan gestured for me to speak up. “Sofia Almquist, formerly from the fourth caste of the Pit, ma’am.”

The secretary shuffled through some more papers before finally coming across a sheet stained with my bloody fingerprint and a grainy photo I remembered getting taken a few years ago. She then grabbed my hand and studied the back of my thumb, making sure it matched up perfectly with the fingerprint on my record. After a terse, accepting nod, she said, “Ah, you’re the first caste girl to show up for inspection today. I guess the others are just too shy to show up… the rest of the chosen Pinnacle ones made sure to get this over with already.”

“I… I’m glad I’m braver than them, then,” I said awkwardly.

The secretary looked up at Stefan and her eyes sparkled. “ _You’re_ her Agent, Eriksson?”

“Yes, Mrs. Johansson,” Stefan replied in his usual polite way. “I made sure to get my claim on the girl the moment I saw her.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Johansson leaned over a microphone on her desk. “Sofia Almquist from the fourth caste has reported for inspection, Your Unholy Majesty.”

“Bring her forth.” Papa’s microphone clicked on immediately, and his dark, accented voice sent tingles through my body once again, tingles I didn’t know were from fear or… something else.

“The Missionary Men are waiting for you just behind those closed doors, Sofia,” Mrs. Johansson then said to me. “I wish you the best of luck for your inspection.”

“Thank you,” I barely choked out. “I definitely need it.”

“You can do this,” Stefan whispered as I stepped away from the check-in area.

After a final fresh breath of incense-tinged air, I pushed the mahogany doors open and made my way into the dimly lit office, only seeing the faint glimmer of the Ghouls’ silver horned masks and smoke drifting away from Papa’s cigar. I stopped in front of their seats and swept down to my knees in a curtsy, fumbling with my robe's rope so they didn’t see any early hints of bare skin.

“She looks a hell of a lot better since last night,” I heard one of the Ghouls remark, one whose voice I hadn’t heard before.

“That blood transfusion has really helped her,” another Ghoul said.

Papa rose from his dark leather chair and approached my side, circling around me like a vulture with their prey. Through the darkness, I could see a smirk play up on his face, perhaps in satisfaction or even disgust. Did he already forget the Sofia Almquist he gave the special charm necklace to? Did he forget the Sofia Almquist whose words he fell in love with, the words that supposedly inspired him to actually change the Kingdom of Meliora for the better?

Papa then stopped in front of me, taking up every inch of my personal space. “So, Ms. Almquist, what would you like to show me?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia’s interview becomes a lot more demanding than she hoped.

My mind drew a blank. Yes, what did I have to show Papa, especially since he somehow knew of my true nature? What type of games did he want to play now, forcing me to speak with my mind rather than my heart?

I studied Papa from head to toe, trying to form answers in my head. Instead of wearing his papal ropes and miter, Papa wore his elegant suit, consisting of his jacket emblazoned with the Kingdom’s Grucifix crest, a white vest with silver, circular buttons, and black trousers and shoes. Whenever he wore his suit, he meant business, and perhaps he wanted to charm the ladies more than usual, put them more at ease.

“I… I want to show you I’ve got what it takes to become your queen." Realizing just how vain and pretentious my words sounded, I quickly covered my mouth with my hands, staining my palms dark red.

“Aren’t you all?” Sister Imperator said, her voice heightened in amusement. She stirred in her seat, perhaps in irritation, while the Ghouls softly chuckled among themselves. “I can already tell she’ll be the little achiever, Emeritus. I believe I got caught some hints before the concert.”

Papa shot a cold glare in Sister’s direction, then turned back to me and brushed back a tendril of my hair. “You will get your chance, my lovely. Now, Ms. Almquist, we were going through your records earlier, and it was noted you are a bit of an… activist, so to speak?”

Adrenaline shot through my spine. “I… in what circumstance, your Unholy Majesty?”

“You like to speak your mind.” Papa’s voice got low and a bit quivery, as if the words he spoke had been on his mind for a long time. “Always commenting on the struggle between the Pinnacle and the Pit. Always questioning what I have done right and wrong. You like to thoroughly analyze people, Ms. Almquist, and I find that most…”

Degrading? Cruel? Obscene?

“Unique of you.”

I could’ve sighed in relief right there and then. But what exactly did Papa mean?

“We need someone who is willing to speak their mind here in the Devil Church,” Papa continued. “Sometimes, my Ghouls are so frightened that they push themselves back. They shouldn’t be afraid of me, no? But I can tell you aren’t afraid of me, Ms. Almquist. You know, most of the girls I have become acquainted with today are only in this for the money. For the fame. For the power. But becoming the Unholy Queen of Meliora has more… risks than that.”

“Oh, of course, I know,” I replied.

“I have a little question for you, Sofia.” Papa went behind me and buried his hand into my curls. I shuddered at his sudden, unwarranted touch, a precursor for more intense things to come. “Say, if the people of the Pit, a place where you have made your home, tried to stage an uprising here in the Pinnacle and perhaps push me down from my throne, what would you do? Would you stay on my side, or theirs?”

“I…” My words were more like mumbles. The Ghouls gazed at me with their stone cold stares, hungry for the answer that would determine my place in this competition. “I would…”

“Speak up, girl,” Sister snapped. “We don’t have all day!”

“I… I’d console them, the people of the Pit. It isn’t good to just cast them aside. There has to be some kind of reason why they’d want to rebel so badly. I… I believe the Queen’s role is to be the heart between the head and the hand. The light between the Ghouls’ darkness and the Pit’s dull gray. Because you see, your Unholy Majesty, there can be no understanding between the hand that feeds and the brains that supply unless the heart enlightens them and inspires them to think their decisions through. The Kingdom needs their mediator, and I am willing to take on that role... more so than anyone else you'll see tonight."

Papa raised an eyebrow. My answer was certainly unexpected, from the looks of it. “Excellently said, Ms. Almquist.”

Things seemed to be getting brighter. I smiled, the first time I did in Papa’s presence. “Thank you, your Unholy Majesty.”

One of the Ghouls sat in his chair, tapping what was presumably my answer into an application on his touch-screen device. It was Brother Air, made clear by the solitary, upward triangle on his suit outlined in white. Rumors about Air and his work oftentimes was mentioned in the mail my listeners sent to me, especially how he supposedly kidnapped girls in the dead of night and subjected them to cruel forms of torture, claiming he was doing experiments in the name of science. Ungodly science, more like. 

“What a beautiful answer,” Sister chirped, clicking her fingernails rhythmically on her seat’s armrest. “You really do have a way with words, Sofia. Now that we’ve gotten a look at your thought process, let us examine you a bit more thoroughly. Please take off your robe.”

Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked you to disrobe for us,” Sister repeated with a sickly grin. “So we may examine you.”

I closed my eyes and made my breathing steady, a way to relax myself. Papa was still behind me, his fingertips lightly stroking the back of my neck. Blinking away my already-embarrassed tears, I untied the rope of my robe and let it fall down to the floor, revealing to Sister and the Ghouls my plump skin littered with pock marks and scratches from years of self-harm. I didn’t have the most beautiful body in the world; hell, in the entire Kingdom. I covered my face with my hand, and my breathing became more hitched, in time with the fast beating of my heart. The Ghouls’ stares pinned me into place, and I could’ve sworn I heard one of them taking pictures with their touchscreen device, the sound of the lens opening and closing unnerving me to no end. My knees began to buckle, and I became wobbly, struggling to keep a hold of myself.

“Is she all right?” one of the Ghouls shouted.

“She looks ill!” replied another in worry. Omega, as I remembered from his adenoidal voice.

“Get her some water, hurry!” a third Ghoul demanded. Alpha, my potential new friend.

My eyesight became a kaleidoscope of hazy colors as I fell into Papa’s arms, vulnerable and nude. When my eyes opened back up, Papa’s mismatched eyes were gazing into mine, soft with concern. He brushed the hair out of my eyes and stained his white gloves with my pale foundation, although he definitely didn’t mind. One of the Ghouls – Brother Water, ironically – came forth and handed me a plastic cup of water. Frantically, I took it and drank, refreshing my dry, starched mouth.

“I’m… I’m fine,” I said haggardly once I gulped down the last remains. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Papa whispered to me gently. “We can always reschedule if you need—“

“No.” I sprang out of Papa’s arms and got back on my feet. “I just had a little slip up, that’s all. I’m ready to continue.”

“Your session is almost complete, anyway,” Sister replied unaffectedly. “Brother Air has logged in the information we needed, but we just have one final question for you before you depart.” Sister cleared her throat. “Why do you hurt yourself like that?”

My body became stiff again. “Hh-hurt myself?”

“Yes, Sofia. We noticed quite a bit of marks and redness on your flesh, and we would like to know why your body isn’t…”

“Perfect?” I spat out harshly. What had gotten ahold of my mind? “Why am I not perfect for your standards? I have no idea why I’m not your so-called ‘perfect’. I’m not like every other cookie cutter Pinnacle girl you’ve probably seen today, wearing their pretty little Grucifixes around their necks and having every word come out of their mouth being some brainwashed praise of the Ghost Project. Unlike them, I actually try to watch myself. I make sure to hold my own values at heart, and not anybody else’s. You see, I’ve got what you call a rather idealistic but soft heart. I’ve got my own fantasies that I know aren’t going to come true unless some effort’s put into them. The thing is that I’m not the ‘perfect’ person to have such thoughts. I’ve got an ugly body, big deal! Why should it even fucking matter? Shouldn’t my thoughts matter more than what I look like?”

Sister was at a loss for words as I gathered up my robe and wrapped it around my body. The Ghouls exchanged confused, stunned glances, and Papa tapped his foot anxiously, unsure of how to react. Oh, did it feel good to let the cat out of the bag. It felt absolutely wonderful to let these people know just how much I had suffered throughout my life, living miserably and with flaws unlike the prim and prissy girls of the Pinnacle. They have to realize that a beautiful mind could oftentimes come with a hefty price tag, one they weren’t familiar on how to pay.

“Thank you for your time, your Unholy Majesty,” I said to Papa after I was all tied up, sweeping into another curtsy. “And same to you, my Unholy Lords. And Sister?” I wasn’t afraid to stare the wicked old woman right in the eyes. “Please take my words to heart. Not just to your head, of course.”

I turned on my heel and headed toward the mahogany door separating me from my anxiety and my freedom, but before I could push the door open, Papa grabbed onto my wrist and jerked me back.

“Sofia Almquist.” Papa said my name firmly and clear. A smirk spread on Papa’s white-and-black painted lips, a conniving smile I had seen in all the artwork depicting him. “I believe you have found yourself a spot in the next step of the competition. Congratulations.”

“Rr-really?” Did my raw thought process I usually reserved for my show win over the judges?

Papa nodded. “Although you are the first woman from the Pit we have seen today, we have noticed something stellar in you, something that will only grow stronger with a bit of… fulfillment.” He glanced over at Sister and the Ghouls, who nodded in agreement. “We are in dire need of someone with strategic plans to improve the Kingdom, to lift our burdens and not be afraid to act upon their ambitions. I am a rather big fan of ambition, Sofia, and I see you play it up strongly. That is what I like.”

My anger faded, and a smile fought for its way on my face. “I… uh… yeah! I’m known for being ambitious, and sometimes it gets me into trouble. But hey, it doesn’t hurt to know what you’re doing beforehand, right?”

“Indeed. You could do great things within the Pinnacle bounds, Sofia, and we would like to see more of your potential. And mark my words, we know you have it.”

“I…” I was at a loss for words. I hadn’t heard this much praise in quite a while! “Thank you, your Unholy Majesty… Papa! It really means a lot. You see, growing up in the Pit, I’ve had to fend for myself and my family in certain circumstances, and over the years I’ve developed rather strong thoughts about—“

My ramblings were abruptly interrupted as the Ghouls got out of their seats and slowly approached Papa and I. Papa held me against the door, pinning me so tightly I couldn’t break free from his grasp. My hand fumbled for the doorknob, but my arm was thrown to my side, locking me into position.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “I thought the interview was over! What’s going on?”

Papa shook his head and chuckled. “This is only the beginning of your test, my little darling. We have yet to evaluate your secret desires and your darkest sins. So tell us, Sofia, what is manifesting within your soul that’s begging to be released? What are you afraid to show us, hmm? Confess. Confess before Papa and you’ll receive what you desire.”

My heart became a hollow chamber as I struggled to breathe. Something dark and sinister was creeping into the abscesses of my mind, made ever more prominent by my weakening body and Papa’s cold stare. Sure, I needed to confess to Papa all my mistakes and guilt, but not with a ton of anonymous eyes watching over us!  Tears streamed down my cheeks and a sob shuddered through my chest; could Papa and the Ghouls show me the way to my own personal absolution? Should I confess and get this all over with?

I let out a heavy breath, and I forced myself to speak, my voice shaky. “I just want to be beautiful.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia's rebellious nature is taken into account, which may mean dire circumstances for her...

After what felt like an eternity of silence and sharp glances, Sister made a sound of amusement in her throat, a little “Hmph,” as she shuffled her papers in her lap. Brother Air tapped on the screen of his device frantically, while the rest of the Ghouls remained deadly silent, afraid to speak out either for or against their master. Papa didn’t take his gaze off of me, waiting for my next move. Did I say something wrong? They wanted the truth, so I let the truth willingly pass through my lips, even though it hurt so much to confess. Or maybe I hadn’t given them enough information? What would really satisfy them?

“I believe we may need a bit more time to evaluate the girl, Emeritus,” Sister finally announced. “I know for sure we have not seen all of what Ms. Almquist has to offer us. There are dangerous secrets bubbling in her soul, and if she desperately wants to win your hand, she will need to reveal them.”

“Yes,” Papa agreed, rhythmically tapping his fingertips against the door. “Let us have a last minute confessional. Come now, Sofia, don’t be afraid to tell Papa what you’re hiding. I asked you once, and I will not ask you again. Answer me immediately! What is it that you hide?”

“I… I have sinned too much for my own good,” I tried to reply, although I knew the answer would be too broad.

“We all sin, don’t we?” Papa asked in a condescending tone. “How have you sinned, dearest? How have you pleased our master Mammon?”

I began choking on my words. “I… I have a… rather rebellious heart–”

Papa let out a wicked chuckle. “Ha! A rebel heart? I’ve already seen my share of those. But the rebels from the castes are the ultimate sinners, aren’t they? They try to rise up against me, but they hilariously fail. Are you saying you are one of them? Do you heavily detest the utopia I have created that you want to fight me?”

“Nn-no! I’m not one of them!”

“ _Liar!_ ” Papa’s voice took on a sudden, thunderous roar as he slammed my head against the door, pushing the meat of his hand right into my forehead. Tears prickled in my eyes, and I bit down on my painted lip to try and suppress them. “I know exactly who you are, Ms. Almquist. You are the rebel radio host from the fourth caste, and you speak against me and my court just to satisfy the sickly caste people down below! I have heard many stories about your broadcasts, Ms. Almquist, and I am not pleased. I was rather surprised when Sister Imperator selected your name. I may have thought it was for your execution rather than your possible marriage.”

“I thought so too,” I hissed, grabbing onto Papa’s collar to support myself, “but at least I’m one step closer toward changing your mind.“

Papa’s face crumbled in frustration. “This is your last chance to cry for absolution, girl. Cry for absolution and all will be forgiven. But if not, then you shall pay a rather hefty price.”

“Or perhaps we need to exorcise the rebellious sins out of her soul,” a raspy voice behind one of the Nameless Ghouls’ masks offered up. Brother Air, the Ghoul holding the touch-screen device sat up and approached Papa and I. “This is no way for a future bride of yours to be acting, Emeritus. We shall need her to go through an intervention before she proceeds any further into the challenge.”

“But we cannot suspend the competition!” another one of the Ghouls, Brother Water protested. “What about the other girls?”

Papa shook his head. “I have noted that Sofia Almquist has much potential in this competition, and I will not let her waste away. However, as Brother Air suggested, Ms. Almquist’s rebellious nature dooms her position if she tries to force her messages of social justice upon us any longer. So, I wholeheartedly agree with Brother Air’s idea. If we want Ms. Almquist to be in perfect condition for the rest of the challenge, she will need to undergo an intervention.”

“An intervention?” I clutched my chest as my heart began to pound. “Those are for the clinically insane!”

“But it is what you will need, Ms. Almquist,” Brother Air said thinly. “Your precious little mind can’t be plagued by thoughts of rebellion any longer. You might even become too dangerous for us to handle if you don’t go through with what we want.”

“Please, no!” I sunk down to my knees and sobbed into my hands. “Please, I’ll let everything go just for you! I promise!”

“Don’t think you can trick me, girl,” Papa said harshly. “I know the rebels’ ways of trying to win people over, and fake pity is the most common one. Now, I won’t try to fight with you anymore, Ms. Almquist. Brother Air, Brother Earth, take Ms. Almquist to the confessional chamber immediately. I’ll let you know how the other candidates were later tonight.”

“You can’t get away with this!” I screamed as Brother Air and Brother Earth grabbed ahold of my arms and dragged me out of the office. “This is absolutely uncalled for! What’ll happen when the caste people come here and there’s no one there to console them, huh?”

“Remember your hymns, Ms. Almquist.” Papa’s gaze was as cold as ice. “ _I_ hold the power, and I don’t believe you ever will.”

The two Ghouls dragged me past Mrs. Johannson’s desk, where she sat typing away, not minding the chaotic action near her. Stefan sat in a burgundy leather chair, scrolling through something on his own touch-screen device. His eyes shot up from his reading and he leapt out of his seat, pacing toward Brother Air and Brother Earth as the entrance to the elevator got closer.

“Hey, fellas! Fellas, what are you doing?” Stefan asked quickly as he grabbed my wrist. “I’m Sofia’s Agent, and I didn’t approve for her to be treated like this!”

“She’s being taken in for an intervention,” Brother Earth explained, “at Papa’s very own request. Her so-called activism and rebellious nature simply cannot be tolerated for the proceeding steps of the challenge. He was not very pleased with Ms. Almquist’s behavior.”

“What?” Stefan looked at me with concern, although a glint in his eye suggested this may be what I needed to develop my role. “Sofia, honey, what happened in there?”

“They treated me like shit, that’s what happened!” I cried. “I’m not some statue to be observed. They made me strip down to absolutely nothing and then they decided to poke fun at my scars! I’m not perfect in any way for them, Stefan, and they’ve noticed. I know exactly what they’re about to do to me.”

Stefan turned to Brother Air. “What’s this intervention going to be like, pal?”

“A simple mind reading, that’s all,” Brother Air replied. “I have the Kingdom’s most powerful technological equipment that will sense stresses in Ms. Almquist’s brain. It is nothing very convoluted, really, but she will be visiting me for quite a few sessions in between her training along with the other women. Do not mind me and my work, Mr. Eriksson. Sofia Almquist is in good hands.”

“Are you sure?” Stefan’s eyes became narrow, almost like an act of his, almost like he knew exactly what was about to happen.

“He’s positive,” Brother Earth said. “He’s done the intervention techniques on a lot of people before, and let’s just say their minds were cured, all right. We had one girl go from totally relentless and Mammon-fearing to a devout member of the Ghost Project who speaks nothing but praises to the underworld. Hell, she’s a Pet in the Nymphaeum right now. She’s quite loyal to us.”

“Well, in that case…” Stefan sighed, and his face fell into a look of sympathy. “Sofia, I’m gonna have to agree with them on this one. This intervention could lead you into the right direction, if you know what I mean. You can’t be playing off of that wounded rebel act of yours forever, you know.”

“But that’s not—“ I began to protest.

“Sof, this could work wonders for you! I understand you’re still afraid and worried about what’s going on with your show and your family, but you’ve got to think of the future now. You need to make your place here in the Pinnacle, and this is the right step. If you want to survive up here, you need to eliminate everything you’ve been taught down in the Way Below. This is a different kind of society, kind of like man versus man. And you’ve got to specifically watch out for yourself and your own best interests. You get what I’m saying?”

Dejected, I slowly nodded. Maybe this intervention wasn’t so much of a bad thing after all, especially if it would help me get a higher spot in the competition. But by allowing the Ghouls to search through my mind meant doom to my cause, and everyone I knew I’d inspired through my words alone. The castes had always been in danger, but never more so than now. Yet, I could put up a good fight. I’d give them want they want, but keep my real thoughts in the back of my mind. I’d be both rebel and victim, fighter and devotee, a double-edged sword.

But is it at all possible to please both the innocent and the sinister?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia is taken into Brother Air's laboratory for her intervention, and later finds out a secret regarding one of the members of the Ghost Project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is edited to remove grammar mistakes and to make dialogue clearer to understand. So yeah, this version of the chapter is different than the one you'll see on A Ghoulish Writer.

Brother Air’s laboratory was not a very pleasant place. There was barely any light in the room, except for small flames raging inside the lanterns scattered around us. The lab was more akin to a medieval torture chamber, with its stone walls and sickening scents of dust and decay. The elevator brought us all the way to the underground level of the Devil Church, where no one would be able to hear my screams and cries. But then, I realized as we were underground, I was brought back to the same level where the people of the castes prospered. Technically, I was with all my family and loved ones again, far away yet so close. I would suffer for their protection, for their eventual liberation. This was merely the first step toward my transformation into the person that would save the Kingdom from Papa’s unholy reign.

Air laid me down on a platform leaning against the wall, strapping me down to it by my wrists and ankles. Earth played around with my restraints, tightening them up. My adrenaline raced and my heart began to furiously pound as Air glided over to a mysterious machine, throwing switches and letting sparks fly. A tall figure covered with a blanket was reclining against the wall, and I swore I saw hints of gold plate peeking through underneath. I gulped and steadied my breathing. This intervention would not be an easy process at all, and not very comfortable from the likes of it. These Nameless Ghouls had cruel intentions, and they were definitely planned for me alone.

"Ww-what are you going to do to me?” I asked nervously.

Air approached me, a syringe in his veiny hands. “ _I said_ this was to be an intervention,” he replied, sterilizing the needle. “However, you weren’t informed of how I usually do my intervention process. I will take a bit of blood, send a vial into one of my machines for analyzing… and then we will discover what we will need to do for you to become complacent.”

“Bullshit!"

A sharp slap from Air stung through my cheek. He then ripped off my robe, ran his disgusting old hand over my nude flesh, and jabbed the needle into my forearm, using extra force to ensure the needle pierced through my veins. “You don’t want to end up living in the eighth caste, do you, Ms. Almquist? If you continue to behave that way I am certain you will be sent there. Now please be understanding of this procedure!”

"Ww-what did you just shoot into me, sir?” I then asked, my voice becoming frail.

“His seed,” Earth retorted with a chuckle.

“Silence, Earth!” Air hissed. Turning back to me, he added, “I have given you a vaccine of simple nourishments, nothing more. Nothing like the tranquilizer shot I gave you yesterday. However, once we begin the intervention process, I will give you one of the strongest medicines in my possession. A medicine so powerful, it has the capability to seize the human mind and play with the memories you hold dear. We will be altering your behavior quite a bit, Ms. Almquist. Your vengeance against the world is something that won’t ever be able to go away. That is why we have decided to make you the test subject of a new experiment. We call it… the Demi-Surge.”

Earth tore the blanket off of the tall figure. I found myself staring at an automaton with gold-plated skin and dark, hollow chambers that served as eyes. Automatons hadn’t been seen in the Kingdom for a number of years, not since the end of Papa II’s reign. The ones that remained usually worked in the first caste and in the Nymphaeum, the brothel of the Kingdom and a frequent hotspot for the Missionary Men. Was Air really going to transfer my soul into this soulless figure just to teach me some kind of horrid moral? I'd be trapped in the automaton for them to make sure I'd conform to the norm. After all, weren't most of the Pinnacle's citizens like controlled robots anyway, devoutly following the Project's hymns like they were real words of worship?

“An automaton?” I gasped.

"Her name is Hel,” Air replied, running his fingers along shining gold skin. “I built her quite a few years ago, before the automatons were sentenced to be executed by Sister Imperator. But in this procedure, Hel will be of good use. Hel will teach the people of the Pit not to rise up against us and to let us do our deeds. And might I add that Hel has the ways of pleasure and pain embedded into her memory chip, things that will be quite useful during your participation in the competition.”

“Stop this!” I screamed, banging my fists on the platform so hard that I temporally lost movement in my hands. “This is torture! You can’t get away with this!”

“But we can,” Earth said snidely. “Once you’re in the Pinnacle, your body and soul belongs to the Ghost Project. You’ve been cleverly chosen to be our little guinea pig, Ms. Almquist. Why do you think Sister hesitated when she called your name? She knows damn well who you are.”

Air taped electrodes to the sides of my head. “These will assist me in reading your mind, Ms. Almquist,” he explained, “just in case the procedure knocks you out cold. You will feel some electric shocks every now and then, but they will be nothing too major. Just know that your cooperation and your resistance will lead the way to more scientific innovations within the Pinnacle.”

Sparks began to fly from the machines, while Hel became surrounded by halos of light coming from the overhead contraption above her. My soul was to be put into this automaton as a potential way to wreak havoc and chaos, the opposite of the lessons I tried to teach. How could someone so full of potential and the ability to learn and adapt become so quickly enraptured by promises of war and greed? I suppose that’s the only way of life the people of the Pinnacle knew. They were nothing but zombies who were fueled by Mummy Dust alone, and wealth controlled their lives.

“Any last requests?” Air crooned. “Any last words before your soul leaves your body?”

“Yes, actually,” I said bitterly. “Tell Papa he’ll never know who I truly am because of this. Tell him I thought he knew better. Tell him… I was ready to put my trust into him the moment he gave me the necklace. And now my hope for him to become successful has died.”

Air chuckled behind his silver, horned mask and moved a tendril of my hair out of my face. “If he’s even ready to hear those words. Earth, throw the switch! We are ready to begin!”

Earth obeyed his master, and at once, the room became engulfed in a blinding white light. The electric shocks raced through my head, making me shake and spasm in my limited state. My eyes burned as my vision became blurry, and oddly enough, tinged with a shade of red. There wasn't any way I could distract myself from this unnecessary pain, not even by looking at the two mismatched eyes peering from within the darkness, wet with tears and strained with regret. I recognized these eyes instantly, even as my consciousness began to fade away.

Why was Papa letting them do this to me?

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Sofia rests, Papa has visions of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BAAACKKKKKK!
> 
> Okay, so the reason why I haven't been updating this fic for almost a year is quite a long one. Let's just say it involved writer's block, plus some things I've been going through which thankfully I've gotten over. So, I'm back to writing new chapters of Kingdom! :)
> 
> This chapter is written in Papa's POV (as some of his backstory is presented here), and takes some cues from the 'Pinnacle to the Pit' music video. Enjoy!

Bitter. Wounded. Miserly. The names he was frequently called hurt his broken heart, and it was all because of his rotting family tree. Back when his father, the first Papa Emeritus reigned over the Kingdom of Meliora, everything was perfect. There was no war, no protest, and no rebellion to worry about. It was only when his brother, the second Papa Emeritus took the throne did everything turn to shambles. Wasting money on luxuries and escorts and high-end fashions became the norm of those who resided in the Pinnacle, and of course, the Pit dwellers were totally ignored and cast into the castes. Even his brother’s mother, the Kingdom’s very own Sister Imperator, was perfectly fine with his construed views, at least before he died of the damned heart attack.

And then, the throne was all his. Finally, there an opportunity to fix the mistakes his brother had left behind… or so Papa thought. On the night he was sworn into office as the third Papa Emeritus, he vowed to restore the Kingdom back to its long lost beauty and prime. More focus would be put on reforming society and uniting the Pinnacle and the Pit to achieve a greater good. But Stepmother wanted him to take on his brother’s work as if he never died, and encourage free spending and indulgence while paying no attention to the Pit dwellers, who actually worked hard for what they desired. That’s not what the Kingdom’s goal was, Papa wanted to say. Society must come together as one in order to be successful, and by segregating the Pinnacle and the Pit, war and discourse raged on. Of course, as Stepmother always said, she knew best. She had much more experience in office than he did, and knew how to speak to the masses. He was nothing but her mouthpiece, merely echoing the despicable speeches she wrote herself.

Papa stared out the wide office window that offered a picturesque view of the Pinnacle below. The Tower of Mammon’s needle-point top pierced through the darkened, smoggy skies, and the zeppelins passed through the clouds like they were curtains. The Pinnacle was far from beautiful – no trees, no animals, no color whatsoever. The books in his library gave Papa comfort and showed him what the world was like if the nuclear war on Lincopia never happened. And then, of course, there was the angelic voice of Sofia Almquist, lamenting about society as if she had time-traveled back a hundred years and seen the old world for herself. Papa was so delighted that she had been drafted to potentially become his bride, and wanted to punch himself for how cold he acted toward her at the inspection earlier. It was such luck she passed with flying colors, he thought, but luck and fate weren’t much to be believed in these days. Ever since She – Madam Satan, he called her – that seductive temptress that lured him into becoming who he was now, a living skeleton – left his heart split in two and society into a crumble.

“Perhaps we need another reminder as to what tomorrow is, Sire?” The light, youthful voice that belonged to Brother Earth startled Papa from his trance. The somewhat short Ghoul lazily reclined against the doorframe to his office and fiddled with his jacket nervously.

“Just another reminder of the past that I don’t need right now, Earth,” Papa mumbled.

“You wouldn’t say that about Yuletide, now would you?” Earth joined Papa at the window. “It’s a holiday even those with the darkest of hearts celebrate. There’s just that charming feeling in the air, with the cheerful music and colorful lights… it brings back a sense of nostalgia! It’s a shame we’ve cut the Festival out of the budget, Papa. The citizens went crazy whenever we sang Yuletide carols—“

“I said enough, Earth!” Papa bellowed, turning to face his Ghoul violently. “My stepmother abolished Yuletide after my brother died, and there’s no use for you to bring it up anymore!”

Earth winced and jumped back a foot or two. “Fine, I’m sorry. But there was something Brother Air wanted to show you in his laboratory.”

Papa raised an eyebrow caked in white greasepaint. “Let me guess. Is it another one of his experiments? Let me see, then.”

Papa and Earth boarded the elevator that would take them from the sixtieth floor all the way down to the underground, where Brother Air hosted his arcane laboratory. Even before he became a Missionary Man, Air always experimented with the art of science, creating robots and automatons that looked so eerily life-like that one could mistake them for a human. He brought up in a recent board meeting that he was researching how to transfer human life to an automaton, perhaps taking those imprisoned in the eighth caste and using them as guinea pigs. Of course, Papa was appalled by the idea, but Sister persisted he accept the notion.

During the descent, the elevator briefly stopped at the fifty-second floor, where the School of Mammon made its home. A young girl with olive skin and wide, brown eyes stepped into the elevator, and upon noticing that her Unholy Majesty stood before her, she swept into a curtsy.

“Why, if it isn’t little Cirice!” Papa knew the young girl well, as she was the youngest singer in the Pinnacle choir. “Tell me, my child, how are your studies going?”

“Very well, Papa,” Cirice replied with a quiver, almost like she was afraid to talk to him. Most of the schoolchildren were taught to be obedient around him, but this girl especially showed her fright. It was odd, considering how she always beamed onstage. “We’ve been learning about the Greater Demons today. Belial, Belphegor, and Sammael. I feel so bad for them. Heaven just cast them out.”

“Of course. They did nothing wrong but briefly break the rules, if you will, defying the norms of society.”

“Uh, Papa, may I ask you something?” Papa didn’t respond, instead gesturing for Cirice to continue. “I was wondering… will the Yuletide Festival be brought back this year? My mother and I were talking about it—“

“No, Cirice,” Papa replied hesitantly. “Nothing was even planned for this year, to be honest.”

“Oh…” Cirice’s voice dwindled. “But what about—“

“We cannot celebrate Yuletide this year, I’m sad to say.” With the unfortunate proclamation, Papa shifted into the form he usually took on around his people – cold, unable to be spoken to. Lately, he found it easier to be in, as it made dealing with the many problems of the Kingdom less of a heartache. “With the bridal competition and the threat of rebellion, I’m afraid it is in safe practice that we don’t host any events.”

“Oh… okay then, Papa.” Cirice’s brown eyes lowered to the floor as she held back her tears. “Sorry I asked.”

When the elevator landed on the underground level, Cirice was left alone, tears streaming down her pallid face. The child’s sadness nearly broke Papa’s heart. His damned mother didn’t even consider hosting anything in favor of Yuletide for the children this year, nothing that didn’t involve them storming the toy store or demanding for entertainment from the fourth caste. “We’re only focusing on finding you a bride, Axel,” she had told him, saying his true name with spite, “and that’s all that matters in the Kingdom right now.”

Papa and Earth entered the laboratory, a room hosting various machines and contraptions that even Papa didn’t know much about. An automaton lay lifeless against a platform, not yet painted or polished. Papa could only imagine what purpose the automaton would serve once she was complete. Perhaps she would be another sex doll in Air’s collection, or perhaps a clever way of keeping the peace down below? Air was always a man of mystery and silence – he rarely uttered a word. But when engaged in his experiments, he was very chatty, albeit a bit hard to understand.

“Papa!” Air approached Papa and clapped a hand on his shoulder, perhaps to steer him away from something covered by a blanket in the corner of the laboratory. “I wanted to show you the latest experiment I have created. It is a bit… complex in terms of what I usually do, but nevertheless I think you will be pleased.”

Papa eyed the automaton suspiciously. “You’re not putting _my_ spirit into that thing, are you?”

“Ha, no! That is another project I am saving for later, and for a different person entirely. This is something I need to test… immediately. Come, come. We do not have much time.”

“Always a Ghoul to rush me, Air,” Papa retorted as he was ushered to a reclining chair. “Earth, stay behind and make sure nobody sneaks their way in. And don’t touch anything!”

Once Papa was situated, Air explained his experiment. “Now, Papa, I’m going to put these sensors on your head.” He took a bunch of wires jetting out of a nearby machine and taped circular sensors onto Papa’s temples and forehead. “I hope I’m not ruining your Unholy face paint.”

“It’s late anyway,” Papa remarked as Air placed an additional sensor near his scalp. “I can give a fuck less.”

“These sensors are going to… read your mind, if you will,” Air continued. “You must start to think about how your actions are changing the Kingdom, Papa. They happen to be affecting your very own Ghouls, too. Throughout the year, you have become cold and distant, letting the Kingdom fall into shambles because of what Sister tells you to do. You think nothing of how those who live in the Pinnacle suffer just as well as those who live in the Pit. You let everyone suffer, including the ones closest to you. My experiment can change your attitude, to put it lightly. Perhaps your fate will change.”

“Enough with the prophetical bullshit, Air,” Papa grumbled. “Let’s get this experiment over with. This might as well be a solid waste of my time, anyway.”

Air glided over to his machine and flipped on a switch. In an instant, a painful, tingling sensation coursed through Papa’s head as the sensors searched every nook and cranny of his brain. He bit down on his painted lip, the bitter taste of greasepaint getting on his tongue. The sharpening pain was unbearable, almost reminding him of what occurred the night he was subjected to the cruel experimenting the academy forced him to go under. And that’s what he saw playing before him like a dream – the entire day when his life was changed forever.

In the year 2020, Papa, or Axel as he went by, was only a young man attending the University of Mammon, studying to become a scholar so once he took the throne as the new Papa, he would have all the knowledge he needed to rule over the Kingdom. He wasn't one to particularly pay attention to lectures about theology and the outlawed religions, though. He would always mindlessly etch the Grucifix he saw emblazoned on his brother's miter into his desk. Of course, his professor caught on and promptly sent him to Headmaster Fersen's office, a place Axel usually was besides the classroom. Who was he to blame? He was quite the troublemaker in his youth.

But Headmaster Fersen didn’t reprimand him during this office visit. “I want to show you something,” he crooned, escorting Axel to the elevators outside the University level. Once the two were alone in the dark, with only the occasional sparks from a circuit serving as light, the Headmaster continued. “What if man could harness the power of a god? In a sense, he would need God no longer, yes?”

“I… I’m not sure what you mean, Headmaster,” Axel said hesitantly.

“Oh, sure you do, Axel. You are the son of Papa Emeritus the first himself, and the younger brother of our current ruler! You know exactly what I mean when I say there is no God anymore. In fact, I have been working with your brother and your stepmother very closely for a new project, a marvelous innovation! Come with me, child. Today, you shall receive the light.”

“What do you see, Papa?” Air’s voice broke through the hazy memories, disturbing Papa from reliving his past. “Tell me. The machine isn’t picking up enough information.”

“I see… Headmaster Fersen, from my days in academia,” Papa mumbled, trying to focus diligently on the dream. “He’s leading me to the elevators. And I see these men wearing black masks over their faces… but I cannot recall who they are…”

“Focus, Papa! Do not let your memory escape you!”

The men were the Brothers, the elders of the sect of Satanism that the Ghost Project belonged to. They wore black moretta masks over their faces, making it appear as if there was an empty void where the upper half of their face would be. As Axel and the Headmaster entered the nave of the Devil Church, Axel couldn't help but feel very uncomfortable by the Brothers' eerie, intent stares. He had never met the elders before, and those who usually saw them were either high authority figures or traitors of the Ghost Project. He hoped to be neither, praying silently to himself as he was pushed onto a wooden chair wrapped with many wires.

“Here in the Devil Church, we tame the laws of nature,” Headmaster Fersen explained. “Our cult devises the ideas that will change society for the better! The light is strong and powerful in those who believe in Mammon and his power! Brothers, observe the candidate! Infuse him with that which binds us… and make him into a man of light!”

Axel gripped onto the chair handlebar as an electric shock raced throughout his body. Surrounded by the masked men, he became engulfed in a burst of light coming from the machine in front of him and was miraculously aged up a full ten years. From nineteen years old to twenty-nine… what bizarre science was involved with this increase in age, Papa could not recall. A form of the Dark Arts, perhaps something only Air knew the practices of. He didn’t even know why it was so necessary. But Headmaster Fersen, as he later learned, had more plans in store for him, more plans only his stepmother could devise.

“I need more details, Papa!” Air demanded, breaking through the memories again.

“Fersen’s taking me back into the elevator… and into my own office. My brother’s, as it was back then. And… oh fuck, no. _She_ is there.”

Madam Satan, a woman of black cloak and horned mask stood before her Brothers of the Devil Church. At the time, Papa was unaware that Madam Satan – or Freyja, as her real name was – was an enchantress, able to change identities and visages at her own free will. She appeared as a woman in her mid-twenties, and wore the heavy, garish makeup that the Pinnacle girls usually did – thin, drawn on eyebrows, the highly arched, red lips, dark eye shadow. Despite the enchantress hiding the upper half of her face, Papa thought Freyja's beauty was ravishing. However, what he didn't know was that her visage was a sinister trap that would lead him right to his own personal doom.

“Kneel before her Excellency!” the Brothers bellowed, and Axel immediately lowered down to his knees. He had no choice but to follow the Brothers’ demands in order to keep himself sane, or in the most extreme case, alive. Cackling, Freyja took Axel’s hand and ushered him upstairs to the room that he would later call his private bedchamber. Mammon be damned, he was so naive, so easily tempted in his youth. They mindlessly waltzed in the city moonlight, dancing in front of the wide window for the late-night stragglers of the Pinnacle to see. So taken over by lust and desire, Papa's hands ran down Freyja's bare waist, and he moved in closer for a kiss. But Freyja was quick to stop him, placing a finger against his lips as she pushed him to the couch.

“You think you like what you see,” Freyja told him wickedly, almost as if she was warning him about the fate he was about to come across. “And yet, you are blind! But no worries, young Axel. With time, you will see that we all hide secrets that we have to keep to ourselves. You are Giuseppe’s younger brother! I wonder what dark thoughts are always meddling in your silly little head.”

“I don’t understand, mistress,” Axel said sheepishly. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Ha! I knew you’d be confused.” One of the Brothers arrived with a tray of bubbling green absinthe in his hands. “Drink, Axel. Lift your sorrows and forget everything you thought you knew. With this, you shall see all.”

And did he drink – he downed the whole liquid with one gulp, to chase away his fears. But as the absinthe settled in his stomach, Freyja grinned from ear to ear and chuckled almost maniacally. Axel’s head began to sting, and before he knew it, his vision became blurry and his mind went black.

“No…” Papa muttered, tossing and turning even as the sensors restricted him. “No… you cannot make me confront the past again, Air!”

The Demi-Surge Project would change him completely, from the bright-eyed yet foolish college boy to the broken, despaired leader in search of a new belief. It was Freyja’s own creation, and as the memories clicked together, Papa realized that his own Air Ghoul may have had a role in its creation. He lay strapped to an operating table by his arms and his legs, and a metal contraption in the shape of a crown was placed on his head.

Freyja stood at Axel’s side and stroked his cheek lovingly. “Your stepmother told me this would be the only way you would conform,” she explained. “So naturally, I had to follow my lady’s orders. She is the Queen Regent, after all. With the Demi-Surge, you will wield the power to entrance and enslave, just like your brother. Through industry, man can harness this power, and attain all that which he desires.”

“No!” Axel cried. “You cannot make me go through this hell!”

“Join us, Axel,” Freyja said seductively. “You must. You cannot let your family down.”

“I’d rather die than dishonor my family. But I’d only ruin the Kingdom even more! I will escape this curse!”

Axel tore off the straps, threw off the contraption and ran. Freyja was close behind him, sending a series of zaps and shocks his way. Even though his skin became singed and trickled with pain, Papa kept going until he found himself at the very top of the Tower of Mammon. The Pinnacle dwellers continued their lives down below, driving down the foggy streets and entering buildings lit by fluorescent neon signs. There was no Light - everything Fersen and the Brothers told Papa were lies, desperate pleas to bring him to the spot his family so coveted. He never wanted to be the ruler of the Kingdom -he'd fuck things up even more. He was a young man, not an experienced politician like his brother! He knew nothing.

There wasn't anything to live for.

The visions of the past faded away before Papa could watch the dreaded moment where his life fell out of grasp. But he remembered everything. Before Freyja could confront him once more, Axel jumped and plummeted down from the Tower of Mammon, immediately dying from the impact when his body hit the ground. However, the shocks from the Demi-Surge still coursed through Axel's body, powerful enough to revive him as a ghost of his past self, a fallen angel of sorts. Even as he wished not to be alive, Axel knew there were things he still needed to do, things he still needed to amend. And in that moment, for the first time in what felt like ages, Axel felt a small bit of hope that the Kingdom would soon change for the better.

Papa opened his eyes as Air approached him and gently took the sensors off of his head. “Now you know,” the Ghoul said quietly. “Now you know the shadows of the things that have been. They are what they are. Do not blame my experiment for showing you the errors of your ways, Papa. Now, you have an idea of what needs to be done. Over time, you have begun to realize that the power belongs to the people. And that is what you must teach them.”

“But my brother…” Papa tried to justify, his voice dwindling. “He has destroyed… everything the Kingdom once stood for. There is no way to amend what he has done!”

“Of course there is.” Somehow, Earth had snuck into the laboratory, the tricky little Ghoul he was. “I think with the bridal draft, we can find some hope in restoring the Kingdom. This is a new generation, Papa. We’ve got to fix what the older folks have done, and bring in new things, you know? Like that Sofia chick said, ‘Great is the world and its Creator.”

“You’re much more powerful than you think, Papa.” It was usually rare to hear Air speak such positive things. “You are nothing like your brother was. While he was greedy and unforgiving, you are… well, greedy like he was—“

“Hey!” Papa yelled in protest. “That was the point of why I wrote Mummy Dust, wasn’t it?”

Papa couldn't help but notice Air stir when Sofia's name was mentioned. "Speaking of Ms. Almquist," Papa said, his voice sliding in suspicion, "how did the intervention with her go earlier?"

"Ah, yes, I meant to discuss the details with you." Air led Papa to the back of the laboratory. "The first round of electroshocks seemed to be a success. The girl did falter a bit, but—“

" _Electroshocks?_ " Papa suddenly shouted, startling Earth and Air. "I didn't instruct you to give her electroshocks!"

"But I thought that was a part of the intervention process, Papa."

"No, no, you fool! We outlawed the Demi-Surge Project forever ago! And I thought my visions would've reminded you why. I told you to take her to the confessional chamber, not here!"

"Papa, you are aware this girl is planning to overthrow the Pinnacle and the Ghost Project, correct? She needed to be stopped before any chaos ensued."

Papa brought his face into his hands. "Air, we need to have a little chat. Earth, message the other Ghouls and tell them to come to Air's laboratory. Quickly, please."

 


End file.
